


Dot, Dash, Star*

by shorelines



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Child Abuse, Communication, Fluff, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Morse Code, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9254546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shorelines/pseuds/shorelines
Summary: People with soulmates were blessed with lights like stars. Viktor Nikiforov was born without one, Katsuki Yuuri would have two, and Yuri Plisetsky pretended he had none.They find each other anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Точка, тире, звезда*](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11609811) by [green_pastry (Weis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weis/pseuds/green_pastry)



> I haven't seen a soulmate AU like this before, so for those of you who want to know the rules of this AU beforehand, here you are:
> 
> \- People have floating lights like stars denoting soulmates (platonic or romantic, can have more than one)  
> \- People communicate with their soulmates with Morse code  
> \- Lockets were invented to contain the lights for convenience  
> \- Lights cannot be separated from a person, nor snuffed out  
> \- If a person dies, their soulmate's light representation of them vanishes forever  
> \- When soulmates first meet/touch, their lights combine and flare up once before disappearing  
> \- After, a sunburst mark blooms on their chest, or on the spot where they touched each other

Viktor Nikiforov was born without a light. For a moment, his mother felt a vindictive rush of happiness — her son didn't have one, like her. Yes, his soulmate may be born later, but he was born into this world as hers alone. And she would keep it that way for as long as she could.

He was a happy boy, but she was an unhappy woman. She tried not to let that bleed into him, but on some nights, when he would come tottering around the corner of their family home, she would be reminded of the man she once loved. He was there in the blue of her Vitenka's eyes, in the curve of his mouth. All that was missing was a star, floating constantly beside him, reminding her that he was not hers. That nobody was meant for her.

Viktor's light appeared in winter, when he was four years old. That day, his mother walked in to find her son grabbing at something in the air — a wretchedly bright pearl of light. It spun wildly around him as Viktor clumsily grappled with it, orbiting his head like a halo.

His mother screamed.

On the other side of the world, a baby Yuuri giggled at the winking light above him. His tired, but happy parents watched on in quiet delight as he grabbed it, making it blink back to whoever his soulmate was, however far away.

 

Viktor grew up knowing his mother didn't like his light. She had told him about how she never had one, how she ended up with a terrible man. A man who forgot her the moment his light exploded into a firework, a man who ran off with a woman he passed by in the street, leaving his pregnant lover behind. She told him how a soulmate didn't always mean happiness, how some soulmates never met, how sometimes, your soulmate didn't choose you back.

She would tell him to stop spinning it at the dinner table, and when he didn't listen, she would smack his hand away. If his light ever spun too close to her, or shone just wrong in her eyes, she would shriek at him.

She told Viktor that the light was a curse, that they'd be better off if it just went dark. Viktor would cry whenever she said this, because that meant she wanted his soulmate dead. Everyone at school always loved how bright his light was, how it would blink erratically at random moments, sending him a mess of random letters he still loved. It meant his soulmate, the one meant for him, was out there and growing up like Viktor was. On the bad days, Viktor would cup the light in his hands and pray that his soulmate would love him back, and that their time apart only meant that a great love was being stored up for him, like an inheritance.

At home, Viktor learned to stop reaching out for his light, despite how much he wanted to. He learned to move it so that he was between it and his mother. Sometimes he kept it close, just below his ear, making his hair glow white. He imagined he could hear his soulmate whispering to him when it blinked.

And at the rink, when his light trailed alongside him, Viktor pretended he was skating with whoever was on the other side of his star, no matter how far away they might be.

 

He was eight when his soulmate first tried talking to him.

DOT-DASH-DASH-DOT… DASH-DASH-DOT…

Viktor couldn't understand a word of it, but he could hardly believe it was finally happening. He let the code play out before he dared to seize the light. It struggled and sputtered in the palm of his hand, but it wasn't like the usual random blinkings of a new light, of a newborn.

Upon a pause, Viktor excitedly pinched his fingers around the light and transmitted the Morse code he had practiced for this day.

H-I  M-Y  N-A-M-E  I-S  V-I-K-T-O-R  I  L-O-V-E  Y-O-U  W-H-O  A-R-E  Y-O-U-?

Viktor waited in anticipation for his soulmate's response, bouncing slightly on the floor of his room. He quickly grabbed the book on Morse code he had, flipping it open to the chart.

The light began blinking, and after staring at it for a few seconds, Viktor could make out what it said.

?-?-?-?-?-?-?-?-?-?-?-?

DOT-DOT-DASH-DASH-DOT-DOT, over and over. In Russian Morse code. No — did his soulmate use International Morse code? Viktor scrambled to open up the right book.

E-N-G-L-I-S-H-? he transmitted. Just as the light began to flicker back at him, his mother walked into his room.

"Mama! My soulmate is talking to me!" Viktor cried excitedly.

His mother's face turned to stone. Viktor grabbed at his light, as if to protect it, but she was faster.

She snatched his light from the air, her much bigger hand engulfing it. His mother seized him by the shoulders.

"Viktor." Her face twisted. "Don't you dare tell them who we are. Viktor Nikiforov. I won't let that thing take you away from me."

"But, mama —"

"Viktor!" It was so tight—her grip on him, her grip on his light. Viktor was scared she would choke it out. Tears filled in his eyes, and his mother's face blurred. "Promise me you won't let them find you! Promise me!"

Her hands were shaking. Her hand was crushing his light to his shoulder. "I — I promise! P-Please stop!"

"My Vitenka." Something spread across her face. A smile. Her hands opened, and she wrapped him into a hug. Through his tears, Viktor saw his light bobbing behind his mother's silvery hair. Watery, but perfectly sound. Uncrushable. "My little Nikiforov." She held him close and his light winked once. "You are nothing like your father."

 

Yuuri didn't know why his light went dark all of a sudden, but it had returned by the time his mother kissed him goodnight. He hadn't understood a word of what his soulmate had said, but they could always try again another day. Yuuri decided he would ask Mari to help him. In the dark of his room, his light hovered above him, the size of a pea. It was bigger, brighter than any of the ones his friends had. And it was his — no, it was theirs.

Yuuri reached up and squeezed it, just once.

A heart beat. Maybe more. But it blinked back.

* * *

In this world, no child with a soulmate ever grew up afraid of the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance" - Rainer Maria Rilke, from Letters to a Young Poet
> 
> do you know how many tabs I have open on Morse code right now


	2. Chapter 2

On his ninth birthday, Viktor's mother gave him his first locket.

It was the size of a chicken's egg, and hung from a gold chain. Its front cover was a deep black-purple, with a slight shimmer that brought to mind a midnight sky.

His mother never _told_ him to wear it, technically. So Viktor didn't.

He and his soulmate had just started talking, after all.

 

Mari sat across from Yuuri at the table, Morse code sheets spread out in front of them. She looked terribly bored, but she had agreed to help him with the code.

"Do you want me to transmit the code while you talk?" asked Mari, picking up the International Morse code sheet. "I know you have a hard time getting the rhythm right."

Yuuri frowned and cupped his hands protectively around his light. He really wanted to do it himself, but he was scared of messing it up. What if he told his soulmate something rude, and they hated him forever? "O-Okay. You can do it. But… be careful, please."

"Of course." Mari obligingly laid her hand out. "I don't know Morse that well either, little brother, so we'll both be learning."

Mari didn't have a soulmate. Yuuri's father told them that lights sometimes came to people when they were older, even elderly, but Mari wasn't waiting for one. She was happy with her friends at school, her family at home, and her rock bands on the internet. At least, that's what she told Yuuri, anyway.

"I want to introduce myself first," said Yuuri. Reluctantly, he placed his light in her waiting hand. "Something like… um…."

"Hello, my name is Yuuri?" suggested Mari. She still had his light in an open hand. "That's a good start."

"Um, yes! Tell him that." Yuuri watched on nervously as Mari scanned the International Morse code sheet.

"I pinch my fingers like this, right Yuuri?" Mari demonstrated with her free hand, putting her fingers together. She watched him intently.

Yuuri nodded. He was thankful that his sister was taking special care with his light. "Yes, like that."

"Okay, here I go." Mari began transmitting his message, his light blinking in her hand. Yuuri fidgeted with the edges of a sheet of Wabun code as he watched her. 

H-E-L-L-O  M-Y  N-A-M-E  I-S  Y-U-U-R-I

"Now we wait for them to reply!" said Yuuri, looking excitedly up at his sister. "I wonder who my soulmate is… I hope they like me!"

Mari reached out and ruffled his hair. "Of course they will. No one can dislike my little brother."

But the light held steady for the next few minutes, and Yuuri progressively wilted. Mari sent the message again, a concentrated look on her face, but the light refused to blink back.

"Your soulmate might be busy, or asleep," said Mari, passing the light back to Yuuri. "We know they don't use Wabun code, so they might be in a different time zone."

Yuuri's shoulders drooped as he accepted his light. "I really wanted to talk to them."

"Hey." Mari tapped him under the chin, and he looked up at her. She stared at him quite seriously, but the tight pink headband she was wearing stretched her eyebrows into high arcs, so Mari looked a little silly. Yuuri was still thinking of his soulmate, but he giggled anyway. "When you were a baby, that light would blink every day. Your soulmate really wants to talk to you too."

Yuuri got up and shuffled around the table to hug his sister, wrapping his small arms around her neck. "Sister, thank you."

She laughed and picked him up. "Come on. I smell mother cooking downstairs. I think she is making your favourite."

Yuuri leaned back suddenly, grabbing at his sister's ears. Mari would finally be getting them pierced tomorrow, and she said he could watch to make sure it didn't hurt her. "Katsudon?! Really?"

"Yuuri! Mari!" called their mother. "Come downstairs. I've made katsudon!"

The Katsuki siblings grinned at each other.

 

When Viktor's light started blinking during practice, he begged Yakov to let him take a break.

"Please, Yakov!" Viktor pleaded. "We just started talking!"

"Viktor, no break until you have perfected that step sequence," said Yakov. He frowned as Viktor asked again, and glanced over the boy's head at the stands. He met the sharp eyes of a woman with a long silver braid draped over one shoulder — Viktor's mother. A foreboding but beautiful woman, Yakov had heard she used to be a violinist. Looking at her was like looking at horsehair screeching on string, smeared with too much rosin. "I said no, Viktor. Do the step sequence again — you can talk to your soulmate later, in private."

Viktor pouted, but his light had stopped blinking by now. The boy skated off. Yakov knew that the boy was a prodigy, meant for greatness. He could see it in the way Viktor moved with the music, how he already understood the delicate balance of story with skill, strength with beauty. Yakov knew that despite the distractions and dramatics, Viktor would become the finest skater he would ever teach. 

As Yakov followed him, he could feel the woman's gaze boring into the back of his head.

 

Viktor ran straight to his room when they got home. He and his mother had eaten lunch at a restaurant near the rink in absolute silence, with Viktor forcing himself to not look at his light. The second they had hung up their jackets, she told him to do his homework — he had school the next morning. 

Viktor hoped his soulmate was still awake. Casting a nervous glance at the closed door of his room, Viktor grabbed his chart of International Morse code and flashlight. He dove under the covers of his bed and unfolded the chart, the dark cave of blankets illuminated by his light. When he was ready, he switched his flashlight on and began transmitting.

A-R-E  Y-O-U  T-H-E-R-E

One minute. Viktor huffed with impatience and reached out to try again.

His light flickered.

Y-T-S  I-M  H-I-E-R-E

Viktor's heart thudded, once, and again. He felt hot tears spring to his eyes as the light flashed back at him. Viktor wanted to tell his soulmate everything; he wanted them to know about his favourite shade of blue, and the crooked plum tree in his backyard, and how he wanted a dog so, so badly. He wanted them to know about his morning on the rink, and the one time his skates were on too tight, chafing at his ankles until they bled.

He wanted them to know about the house he grew up in and the sound of seagulls in the morning. He wanted them to know his fears and hopes and dreams. He wanted them to know his name — Viktor.

In time, he would tell his soulmate all of these things but the last.

M-Y  M-A  D-O-E-S  N-O-T  W-A-N-T  M-E  T-O  S-H-A-R-E  M-Y  N-A-M-E  W-I-T-H  S-T-R-A-N-G-E-R-S

A beat. His light held steady, and Viktor continued.

E-V-E-N  T-H-O-U-G-H  W-E  A-R-E  S-O-U-L-M-A-T-E-S  I-M  S-O-R-R-Y

Viktor held his breath as he waited for something, anything. He wondered if his soulmate hated him. If they even wanted to be soulmates with Viktor. He remembered what his mother always said — sometimes, soulmates never meet —

S-O-R-R-Y  C-O-U-L-D  Y-O-U  R-E-P-E-A-T-?

Viktor blinked as perfect Morse code flashed back at him. Oh — his soulmate was younger than him — they must have gotten help, from a friend or relative. Viktor repeated his message. He was glad his soulmate had family to help them.

W-H-A-T  D-O  I  C-A-L-L  Y-O-U-?

I  A-M  N, Viktor replied. _For Nikiforov_.

C-A-L-L  M-E  K

_K_ , Viktor thought, happily. _I wonder what it stands for._

 

"For _Katsudon?_ " Mari asked incredulously, staring at her brother. "Really?"

"I think our nicknames are so cool!" Yuuri said, clapping his hands. "Like we're secret spies! In an American movie."

Mari sighed, but pulled up the blankets to cover her brother's shoulders. "I let you stay up too late. Don't tell mother or father, or they will make you sleep instead of celebrating this with you tomorrow." 

Yuuri gasped and shut his eyes quickly. Mari chuckled, returning his light by his side. She watched for a moment as it blinked periodically, as if Yuuri's soulmate was squeezing it absent-mindedly, taking comfort in just knowing that it was there.

Mari flicked the light switch off and watched the room glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wOW I love Mari!!!! wow!!!


	3. Chapter 3

The next year went something like this: Viktor would talk to Yuuri in between practice and school and the difference between their time zones. Yuuri would talk to Viktor before he woke, during school, and during practice.

Both quickly learned to read and transmit International Morse code by heart. Viktor told K about his skating lessons, and the day after, Yuuri went out to the Ice Castle for the first time. Yuuri told N that his favourite planet was the moon, and Viktor didn't have the heart to correct him, but that night he held up his light to the sky and imagined it was a shooting star.

When Viktor turned eleven, his mother grew worse. She would snap at him more readily, over everything and anything. She smiled when Viktor began landing more difficult jumps, but shook with fury if she saw his light flicker.

And if she ever caught Viktor talking with his soulmate, she would grab the light and keep holding onto it as she made dinner or watched Viktor skate, no matter how much he pleaded with her. She would shove him away if he tried to grab it back. And Yuuri was old enough now to understand what a light going dark without warning meant, and was distraught every time it happened. Afterwards, K would tell Viktor how he was scared, so scared.

Viktor was scared too. And this happened more often than he would like, but his soulmate forgave him every time.

They talked as often they could. Yuuri was told the colours of the sky his soulmate woke up to, and whether he would face the chill of snow or the sun's mercy that day. Yuuri learned what dawn in Saint Petersburg sounded like — the rumble of traffic overwritten by the wailing of seagulls —though he didn't know it was Saint Petersburg. But still, Yuuri imagined that N lived in an old city, one steeped in history and blood but still utterly aglow with light. One with castles and monuments, one as beautiful and grand as his soulmate was.

Viktor fell in love with Hasetsu, even if he didn't realize it yet. He fell in love as K spoke of its narrow streets, the cold of its river and the heat of its hot springs. He loved the lantern-lit marketplaces and how everyone knew everyone. He loved the afternoon K spent describing the quiet that could settle over his sleepy town by the sea, where sometimes, nothing would move, not even the trains on the old railway.

Viktor could watch his light blink until he could see stars under his eyelids. He would say goodnight to his soulmate, and receive a good morning when he woke up.

 

When K told Viktor that he picked up skating because of him, and Viktor almost cried. K always said he wasn't very good, but Viktor knew by now that his soulmate was quite shy.

I  W-O-U-L-D  L-O-V-E  T-O  W-A-T-C-H  Y-O-U  S-K-A-T-E  1  D-A-Y, Viktor transmitted, resting an elbow on a textbook. He received four dashes and three dots back — their code for happiness. 

Viktor was furious when K told him that his rinkmates often teased him for being overweight.

K  I-L-Y  N-O  M-A-T-T-E-R  W-H-A-T  K-E-E-P  S-K-A-T-I-N-G

Seven quick blips of light back. Viktor smiled.

Y-O-U  T-O-O  N-!

For what seems to be the millionth time, Viktor wished that he could meet his soulmate already.

The floorboards of the hallway outside his room creaked, and Viktor quickly blipped a "be back soon!" to his soulmate before opening his school books. He enclosed his light in his hand, ready for when his mother walked in.

 

Days before Yuuri's eighth birthday, his light suddenly went out during his morning class at school. His teachers were used to calming him down when this happened, but when it didn't return by the afternoon, Yuuri was allowed to go home early.

Toshiya had not finished wiping the tears off of Yuuri's face before the boy asked to be taken to the ice rink. Mari, barely home from school herself, agreed to walk him over. She didn't say any of the platitudes offered by Yuuri's teachers or schoolmates, but kept a steady hand on his shoulder and set her pace to his. They all knew by now that the only thing they could do was wait.

Yuuri mumbled a thank you to Mari as he laced up his skates, wanting to get on the ice before Takeshi and Yuuko arrived. He ended up bumping into them instead, their schoolbags still on.

Takeshi reared his head. "Watch where you're going, fa—"

"Takeshi!" Yuuko looked pointedly at him, then back at Yuuri, who just really wanted to get on the ice. Takeshi looked sheepish as he noticed Yuuri's missing light and let him pass.

Yuuri could hear them arguing as he skated away. _They are so lucky_ , he thought. _Compared to me and my soulmate_. Yuuri still remembered the day Takeshi first came to the rink. The moment after he was introduced to Yuuko, their lights swirled and combined, going off like a firework over both their heads.

Yuuko began clapping in happiness. Takeshi screamed.

They were both getting on the ice now. Yuuri cleared his mind and began warming up with figure eights.

"Yuuri!" Yuuko was tapping him on the shoulder and pointing. "Look!"

Yuuri's light nearly blinded him. It flashed in a series of three dashes, a dot, and two more dashes, over and over.

"Your soulmate really wants to talk to you, Yuuri," said Yuuko. "No idea what he's saying, though."

"Excuse me, Yuuko!" Yuuri dashed off the ice, brushing past Takeshi as he raced for the locker room.

There was a pause in the flashing, and Yuuri immediately grabbed his light. That sequence was their signal for sadness. N was always sad when their light returned.

S-O-R-R-Y  K  I-M  S-O-R-R-Y

I-M  J-U-S-T  H-A-P-P-Y  Y-O-U-R-E  B-A-C-K, Yuuri replied, sitting heavily on the bench.

I-L-L  A-L-W-A-Y-S  C-O-M-E  B-A-C-K

Tears sprang to Yuuri's eyes, and he wiped at them absent-mindedly.

I-T-S  G-E-T-T-I-N-G  H-A-R-D-E-R  W-H-E-R-E  I  A-M, continued his soulmate.

E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E  W-A-N-T-S  M-E  T-O  B-E  W-H-A-T  T-H-E-Y  W-A-N-T

N had talked about this before. Yuuri doesn't think he's ever said the right thing to console him. After all, no one has ever said the right thing to him when his light went dark.

He decided to let his soulmate lead. W-H-A-T  D-O  Y-O-U  W-A-N-T  T-O  B-E-?

Yuuri's light held steady. Out the door, he could hear the scraping of blades on ice, the laughter of Yuuko and Takeshi. Outside the rink, Yuuri thought that the town might have fallen quiet, the trains pausing for just a moment in the afternoon. And beyond that, Yuuri imagined the hum of traffic, the singing of seagulls.

M-Y-S-E-L-F, said N. W-I-T-H  Y-O-U

I  A-M  M-Y-S-E-L-F  W-H-E-N  I  A-M  W-I-T-H  Y-O-U

 

Days later, Viktor Nikiforov, a rising star in Saint Petersburg but relatively unknown before his Junior debut, was chosen as a guest skater for the exhibition gala at the upcoming Winter Olympics.

Viktor turned twelve with little ceremony, concentrating only on practicing for the Olympics, and his Junior debut after that. He spoke with his soulmate less and less, as his mother was keeping a watchful eye on his progress, and therefore, on him.

K seemed to know that Viktor was under a lot of pressure. He sent four dots and two dashes every so often, signalling worry. Viktor would reply when he could.

His mother once held his light for an entire day.

 

When Viktor woke up on the first day of March, something was different. Yes, he was in the house of Lilia Baranovskaya for the week, but that wasn't it. There was the dawn, with the squawking and honking that accompanied it, but everything was just a little brighter than usual.

Viktor rolled over and saw a second light hovering by K's. It was smaller, but it was still a star. A soulmate nonetheless.

His mother would —

"Viktor Nikiforov!" Viktor's heart almost leap out of his chest as Lilia's voice boomed in the quiet. "Get up! The third day of your training is the most difficult!"

Lilia said nothing when she saw Viktor's second star, and drilled him in ballet all the harder. Yakov, however, had plenty to say.

Lilia opened the door to the studio for Yakov when he arrived but promptly left the room. Viktor was nearing the end of his session that day, doing some final exercises, looking stiff and exhausted. Yakov was not greeted with a usual cheery good morning, as Viktor was concentrating on a set of fouettes. As the boy spun in place, Yakov noticed not one, but two stars orbiting him, leaving parallel streaks of light.

A thousand thoughts hit Yakov at once. "Vitya… you have another —"

"I know." Viktor stopped abruptly, and his lights slowed to a halt as well. His long hair concealed his face. "I know."

"What are you going to do?" Yakov frowned. "Your mother… she's been —"

"Getting worse. Yakov." Viktor put a hand to his face. Beside him, his brighter star held steady while his smaller one flickered erratically. A baby, grabbing onto their light. Despite everything, despite how much Yakov wished to be able to take the boy away from her, he knew that Viktor loved his mother. And with her sudden illness….

"Vitya." Yakov huffed. He had never been an affectionate man. He had never wanted children. But Viktor was the closest thing to a son that he had, and he'd be damned if he'd let him go this alone. "Whatever you choose to do… I will support you."

Viktor gave him a watery smile. "Don't get all sappy on me now, Yakov. That's my role. Who else… who else would I talk to then?"

Yakov waited for Viktor to collect himself before handing him his coat. "Get dressed. We'll skip the rink today."

"What? But I have so much to practice for —"

Yakov held up a hand. "One day of rest. That's an order from your coach."

Viktor frowned, and for a moment Yakov thought he would protest. But the boy nodded, and a glimmer of his usual spirits returned as his eyes brightened. "Can we… can we go to the dog park?"

Yakov crossed his arms, but couldn't muster up his usual gruffness. "Of course, Vitya."

 

Once Viktor came to his decision, he could hardly bring himself to look at his lights. He wanted to talk to K so badly, but he was afraid.

Viktor knew this would hurt K. He knew that this would hurt them both.

When Viktor greeted his mother, he kept his smaller light in a tight fist, his whole body tense as she hugged him. Her grip on him tightened painfully as K's light flickered a little.

In his room, Viktor dug through his closet until he found the indigo box his mother had given him on his ninth birthday. His lights hovered in front of him — these twin phone lines, like paper cups on string, connecting him to people a world away. These promises of being known by people meant for him, if he would only reach out.

These were also stars that have put him in danger. Viktor wished it didn't have to be this way. That he didn't need to do this to protect himself. He wished that his mother understood.

He hoped that K would understand. It was late at night, and he knew that his soulmate had to be asleep. But Viktor reached out to K anyway.

Four dashes, a dot, three dashes. Signalling love.

He placed his stars in the locket, and snapped it closed.

 

Yuuri didn't go to school for a week after his first light went dark. It was hard for everyone to believe that days after celebrating the appearance of Yuuri's second light, his first soulmate had died.

During his days of grief, Yuuri had laid in his room, watching his new light flicker weakly. He had no way of contacting N or his family — he didn't know his phone number, or where he lived, or even his name.

He hoped that the light would come back like it always did. But as the months passed, and it didn't, Yuuri knew that his first soulmate was dead.

—

When Yuuri Katsuki thought back on this time, all he knew for certain was that for a few days, he had two soulmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter coming soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Yurio

The day after Viktor's mother first saw the locket around her son's neck, no lights in sight, she took out her old violin. She played it in the house now, just slightly out of tune. She was convinced that Viktor was wholly focused on skating and his studies now, instead of playing with fanciful lights.

Viktor spent more and more time at the rink to avoid listening to the violin.

 

Yuuri threw himself into skating. He found his inspiration in the young Viktor Nikiforov, who had just completed his debut in Junior figure skating by breaking two world records and winning gold.

Yuuko had shown Yuuri an interview Viktor had done a few weeks after his stunning performance. The boy had beautifully long silver hair, blue eyes, and wore a soulmate locket on a gold chain. He had said that his theme had been "loss".

"I wonder what he lost," said Yuuko, a hand going to her chest. Yuuri knew that that was where her sunburst mark was, earned after she had met Takeshi years ago. "But he's winning hearts around the world."

Yuuri noticed that too. Viktor Nikiforov began wearing gloves alongside his locket after his victory. While lockets prevented the lights from finding each other if soulmates passed by, physical touch would cause the stars to break out of their lockets anyway, the sunburst marks appearing at the points of contact. Soulmates, after all, were meant to find each other. And no human invention could keep that away for long.

Viktor deflected any questions about his locket with a coy smile, and fastidiously slipped on gloves after every performance. Celebrities who hadn't met their soulmates yet tended to wear gloves alongside their lockets in public, as fans often tried to seize hold of them if they could. Gloves, at the very least, were a deterrent. Many celebrities became quite skilled at dodging attacks, making for entertaining videos online.

Yuuri thought that was the loneliest thing he'd ever heard. 

 

Over the years, Yuuri found himself tapping messages to N. Yuuri's fingers would flitter over his knee while he rode the bus, or on the ice as he was getting up after a fall. His hands would dance across tabletops and the rocks of the onsen, and while Yuuri knew nothing was going through, he did it anyway. Subconsciously, and on purpose. It wasn't often, but whenever he was especially lonely or anxious. Whenever Yuuri felt he had something he needed to tell his soulmate. He told N about the day he adopted Vicchan, about his scattered victories in figure skating, about Mari's high school graduation. Everything his soulmate would never see.

Yuuri told N that he missed him every time a hush settled over Hasetsu, seagulls flying overhead. He told N everything he didn't get to tell him during the time they knew each other.

 

On the ice, Viktor Nikiforov was untouchable. He still felt the pressure of a nation bearing down on him, still saw the ferocity of his mother's eyes, and still heard the violin too clearly in every piece of music he chose. It was all there — in the tension of his arms, in the way his graceful spins edged to sloppy ones if he let himself think.

But on the ice, there were no hands reaching for him, no microphones in his face. Yakov's disappointing stare would come later. His pale skin and long silver hair was his own, because Viktor was in a place that he made for himself.

On the ice, he didn't think about the weight around his neck.

 

In the early days, just the sight of his new light would bring a wave of grief crashing over Yuuri. He wore his locket on its silver chain more often, and dutifully told his soulmate every time he went dark, though Yuuri was sure they didn't understand. He wasn't used to being the older one in a pair of soulmates, so he decided to let them reach out to him first. There were brief flickerings and long outages here and there, but Yuuri's new soulmate didn't send him a proper message until they were eight years old.

Yuuri was in the middle of giving Vicchan a bath when his light appeared and started flashing. Soap in his eyes, dog fur in his mouth, and more than a little out of practice, Yuuri missed the first part of his soulmate's message.

…S  T-H-E  C-A-P-I-T-A-L  O-F  C-A-N-A-D-A-?

Eight years of nothing, and yet their first message was no less than perfect International Morse code. Yuuri shook the water from his hair, frowning. He reached out, his hand shaking a little.

A-R-E  Y-O-U  C-H-E-A-T-I-N-G  O-N  A  T-E-S-T-?

Distantly, Yuuri wondered how that was even possible. All schools had students with soulmates place their lights in lockets or behind a screen by the teacher's desk when taking exams. At eye-level, his light held, steady as a star — it was small, but it was bright. It was leaving a mark on Yuuri's retinas. He sighed and grabbed his light.

I-T-S  O-T-T-A-W-A

His light winked out. This was normal with his second soulmate, and it had been years since he lost his first, but Yuuri's heart still leapt to his throat. Eight years, and he still missed N's stories. He missed talking with him every day about nothing at all. Yuuri wondered what he would have become —

Vicchan suddenly slipped in the tub, yelping and splashing soapy water all over Yuuri as he flailed. Utterly soaked, Yuuri sputtered and laughed.

A knock sounded on the bathroom door. "Yuuri? You drowning in there? Do you want help?"

"I'll be fine, Mari," Yuuri called back, wrestling Vicchan as he squirmed. "I'll be fine."

He had to be.

After Vicchan was dried and curled up at the foot of his bed, Yuuri's light returned. His soulmate must be out of school by now. Yuuri reached out for his light as it flickered hesitantly.

H-E-L-L-O, he transmitted.

Several minutes passed. Yuuri was about to roll into bed when it flashed. H-I

W-H-A-T-S  Y-O-U-R  N-A-M-E-?

I  D-O-N-T  W-A-N-T  T-O  T-E-L-L  Y-O-U. Yuuri was unfazed. This wasn't the first time, after all.

T-H-A-T-S  F-I-N-E-.  H-O-W  A-B-O-U-T  Y-O-U  C-A-L-L  M-E  K-?

I-M  A  T-I-G-E-R

 _T for short, then_ , Yuuri thought.

 

After years of silence, T was quite chatty now. At first, it seemed that his soulmate wanted more answers for exams, and Yuuri had to tell him that while he was willing to help him study, he wouldn't help him cheat anymore.

That earned him a day of dark silence. Yuuri tried to ignore the knot of panic in his chest, but T soon returned, asking for study tips.

Though it was impossible for him to know, T seemed to make a habit of messaging Yuuri at the worst times possible. In late November, Minako Okukawa, renowned ballerina, a recipient of the Benoise de la Danse, and one of Yuuri's closest confidantes, was blackout drunk on the floor of his family's inn. On the television, a twenty-year old Viktor Nikiforov was ascending yet another podium, having won gold at the Rostelecom Cup.

Yuuri was in the process of gently dragging Minako out of the entrance hall when his light began flashing. At first, Yuuri was absolutely bewildered as to what T was trying to say, reading only a mess of random letters and gibberish. It seemed like a… temper tantrum.

"Yuuuuri…" slurred Minako, reaching up to smush her hand in his face. The onlooking guests stifled laughter, and Yuuri began dragging Minako away a little less gently. "Wasn't Viktor aaaamazing out thhhhere? No wonder you have… a crushhhh on himmm."

"Minako-sensei!" Yuuri sputtered. "Y-you have to get up." He hauled Minako to her feet, slinging an arm around his shoulders. She was giggling deliriously now, and Yuuri pulled them both into the hallway. His star kept flashing, providing them with quick instants of light. 

"Don't you wish Viktor was your souulmaaate, Yuuri?" Minako swatted at his light, making it orbit wildly around them in a wide ellipse. As it passed by, Yuuri could make out one letter — K — over and over. "That would be sooo romaaantic…."

"My soulmate is younger than me, Minako-sensei," Yuuri said as he nudged a guest room door open with his foot. He all but dropped Minako inside, and she fell to the futon, snoring loudly.

Yuuri put out a hand and caught his light, squeezing it for a few seconds to interrupt T. When he opened his hand, the star gleamed for just a moment before it flashed almost too quickly to read.

K  I-M  S-O  M-A-D  A-T  M-Y  F-R-I-E-N-D  W-H-A-T  D-O  I  D-O-?

Yuuri imagined that this was what it was like to be an older sibling, or a parent. W-H-A-T  D-I-D  Y-O-U-R  F-R-I-E-N-D  D-O-?

H-E-S  M-O-V-I-N-G  A-W-A-Y!

Yuuri frowned, sliding the guest room door behind him closed as he entered the hallway. I-M  S-O-R-R-Y  T-O  H—

H-E  C-A-N-T  L-E-A-V-E-!  I-T-S  N-O-T  F-A-I-R  H-E  C-A-N-T  L-E-A-V-E-!

S-O-M-E-T-I-M-E-S  P-E-O-P-L-E  L-E-A-V-E-.  A-T  L-E-A-S-T  S-A-Y  G-O-O-D-B-Y-E

I  D-O-N-T  W-A-N-T  T-O-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!

Sighing, Yuuri closed his hand around his light as he marched upstairs. When he let his light go in his room, it blinked thrice, paused, then flashed three more times. _Sorry_.

P-E-O-P-L-E  L-E-A-V-E  E-V-E-N  W-H-E-N  T-H-E-Y  D-O-N-T  W-A-N-T  T-O, Yuuri transmitted. He willed his hands not to shake.

B-E  T-H-A-N-K-F-U-L  Y-O-U  K-N-E-W  H-I-M  A-T  A-L-L

The light held steady for a long time, a single star in the dark of Yuuri's room. Then it blinked once before disappearing.

Yuuri knew that was T signing off by now. He just hoped the boy would listen.

By noon the next day, Yuuri got a short "H-E-Y" as he was starting to launch into a quad, making him slip and fall on his face. Yuuri rolled onto his back, his cheek smarting, and his light winked above him.

I  N-E-V-E-R  W-A-N-T-E-D  A-N-Y  S-O-U-L-M-A-T-E  Y-O-U  K-N-O-W

Yuuri's breath caught in his throat, but before he could ask _why_ , T continued.

B-U-T  I  G-U-E-S-S  Y-O-U-R-E  O-K 

 

Yuri Plisetsky found that talking to a stranger was far easier than talking to his friends, his coach, or even his grandfather. K helped him study, so that Yuri's grades stayed up despite his long hours skating, but he also listened. Yuri supposed K had to, since he spent so much time talking at him.

Yuri told K that he needed to keep his grades up so that he could keep doing what he loved, but also be able to get a degree and support his grandfather in the future. Yuri told his soulmate about how he had trouble making friends at school, and that K really was the person who knew him best. He told K that his mother left him after he was born, and his father shortly thereafter. Yuri instantly regretted that one, cutting K off and quickly changing the subject.

He often thought back to the years he spent ignoring K. When Yuri was old enough to know what soulmate lights meant, with all the uncertainties that came with them, he knew he didn't want his. He didn't want to talk to a stranger that was "meant for him", he didn't want to get close to someone he might never meet. Yuri wore a locket most of the time, fashioning it to go on his wrist, and he refused to transmit. As his grades slipped, Yuri realized that because he mostly wore lumpy sweaters (he lived in Moscow, after all), the only person who knew whether he had any lights was his grandfather.

Hence, the cheating. But K was helping him now. As they kept talking, Yuri noticed how anxious K seemed if he switched off their light without warning. He made a habit of sending a dot before disappearing, and a week later, K thanked him. 

While Yuri kept their light in a locket most of the time, whenever he opened it, it was always there. He supposed that K had always been there, waiting to talk to him, for years and years. A solid beam of light in his life, ready for when Yuri reached out.

Even if K was way too tense, a little reserved, and a teacher's pet, Yuri felt more grateful for his soulmate than he would ever care to admit.

 

A year before Viktor Nikiforov won his first Grand Prix Final, his mother died.

This never appeared in the press. She attended most of his competitions but avoided photos with him, so Viktor never mentioned her. And the world, well, it was interested in him, but it was most interested in the gold around his neck — his locket and his medals.

So this was his to bear alone. The day after, Viktor cleaned out their family home, top to bottom, collecting all of his mother's things and hiding them in her room. He turned out the lights, one by one. Impulsively, in the near darkness, Viktor hacked off his beautiful long hair with a sharp pair of scissors. He watched the strands coil in the trash like mercury, streaming over an old violin.

Viktor went to bed and laid there with a stiffness in his spine, too conscious of the strangeness of his short hair dragging on cotton. An hour slipped by, then another.

Finally, he pulled his locket over his head and placed it gently on his nightstand.

Viktor curled in on himself, and he didn't dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We stood  
> Steady as the stars in the woods" - Ben Howard, from Old Pine
> 
> this was a harder chapter to write for some reason, but i'm happy with how it turned out!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone loves Phicit and so do I

When the triplets were born, Yuuri was told that three rockets had gone off in the hospital room. They were all soulmates with each other, with two silvery sunbursts on each of their chests.

Fireworks were invented in a human attempt to replicate the magic that happened when soulmates found each other, but Yuuri knew they didn't come close. Fireworks were soulless, pretty things that sparked and quickly faded away, out of sight and out of memory. Two soulmates finding each other — that was two stars colliding and going supernova. Yuuri wanted to capture that as his theme in figure skating one day, when he thought he could do it justice. 

But for now, Yuuri was at his desk, staring at a piece of paper in trepidation. His fingers tapped a nervous staccato on the acceptance letter, asking N for courage while he prepared to tell T.

He had gotten into his university of choice in Detroit. He would be flying across the world soon, alone. He would be leaving Hasetsu, his family, and the only life he had ever known to meet up with the man who promised to coach him if he were accepted.

Yuuri could barely process it for himself. How was he supposed to tell his soulmate?

His light flashed, and Yuuri jumped, but it was only T telling him good morning. Before he could stop himself, Yuuri reached out for their light.

I  H-A-V-E  N-E-W-S-!

T's response was immediate. W-H-A-T-S  U-P-?

Yuuri swallowed, scanning his letter again. _We are pleased to inform you…._

I  G-O-T  I-N-T-O  U-N-I-V-E-R-S-I-T-Y-. I-N  A-M-E-R-I-C-A

He leaned back as his star held steady for a moment. Half of him expected it to go dark any second now, but it soon began to flicker rapidly — in… excitement?

C-ON-G-R-A-T-S  K-! T-H-E  1  U  W-A-N-T-E-D-?

Yuuri blinked in surprise. Y-E-S-. B-U-T  I-M  G-O-I-N-G  T-O  K-E-E-P  T-A-L-K-I-N-G  T-O  Y-O-U-.  D-O-N-T  W-O-R-R-Y

W-E-L-L  D-U-H  U  B-E-T-T-E-R-!

Yuuri let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

 

On the plane ride to his new life in Detroit, Yuuri craned his neck to look out the window. He tried to catch one last glimpse of Hasetsu, but for all his years there, he can't make out a single building, not even the ninja house.

Yuuri leaned back into his seat and clutched his locket instead. Airlines had passengers keep their lights dark until the plane reached altitude, though no one was really sure why. It was a long flight to America, and T had promised to keep Yuuri company on it, at least for a little while.

 _That was one of the great things about the lights_ , Yuuri thought as the plane leveled out, watching as many of the passengers around him opened their lockets. Lights bloomed all around him, and it was as if the plane was filled with a small galaxy. _They don't run out of battery or require an airplane mode._

Yuuri's light flashed as he took it out of his locket. U  I-N  T-H-E  A-I-R-?

Y-E-A-H

U  S-C-A-R-E-D-?

Yuuri knew that he meant about leaving home, not about the flight itself. Y-E-S  I-T-S  M-Y  F-I-R-S-T  T-I-M-E

M-E  T-O-O-.  I-L-L  B-E  L-E-A-V-I-N-G  4  S-T  P-E-T-E-R-S-B-U-R-G  S-O-O-N

T had been vague about why he was moving to St. Petersburg, but Yuuri knew that his grandfather was staying in Moscow. His soulmate had spent many nights talking to Yuuri about how guilty he felt, but made it clear he had to.

 _Leaving_ was a word that came up often between Yuuri and his soulmate.

I  T-H-O-U-G-H-T  Y-O-U-D  B-E  U-P-S-E-T  I  W-A-S  L-E-A-V-I-N-G, Yuuri finally said. During his entire application process, he had been anxious about T's response if he did get in, if he did move to America. Despite T's skittishness around talking about his parents, Yuuri really did know the boy best. T hadn't wanted anything to do with his light at first because he was afraid of getting hurt.

His light finally flashed back. W-E-L-L  U  N-E-V-E-R  R-E-A-L-L-Y  A-R-R-I-V-E-D  I-N  T-H-E  1-S-T  P-L-A-C-E  K

Yuuri smiled, supposing that he deserved that. I  G-U-E-S-S  Y-O-U-R-E  R-I-G-H-T

I  W-I-L-L  W-A-K-E  U-P  B-E-F-O-R-E  U  N-O-W  T-H-O-.  W-I-L-L  T-E-L-L  U  A-B-O-U-T  W-O-R-L-D  T-R-A-G-E-D-I-E-S  1-S-T

Yuuri couldn't help but laugh, hoping that no one else was reading his light. T-H-A-N-K-S  F-O-R  T-H-A-T

J-U-S-T… the flashes hesitated. D-O-N-T  F-O-R-G-E-T  A-B-O-U-T  M-E-!  O-R  I-L-L  B-E-A-T  U  U-P

N-O-T-E-D-.  A-N-D  I  W-O-N-T

 

Viktor had a tremendous amount of fun that day, teasing the new junior skater who just arrived from Moscow. The boy — Yuri — was a slight little thing, talented but all too technical. So young, but the filth that would come out of his mouth could deafen the entire rink. He was also hiding something. Viktor had felt it when he grabbed the boy's hands to lead him in a little dance after practice — his gloved fingers had hit something hard on Yuri's left wrist.

And Viktor might have thought it a watch, if he hadn't spent the last decade wearing his own locket.

He sat in his apartment now, staring at it. His locket was the same as it had always been, just a little more scuffed around the edges. Viktor had taken very good care of it, and was almost never without it, unless he was performing. Yakov was the only one he trusted to hold it then.

In the time that passed since his mother's death, Viktor had come up with a hundred reasons to open his locket, and a hundred more not to. At first, he allowed himself time to grieve. As the months passed, he later told himself he needed to concentrate on his upcoming competitions. And as those passed, he finally allowed himself to think about it.

His soulmate. To say that Viktor missed K was more than a massive understatement, it was an injustice. During the last ten years, whenever Viktor thought of K it was like reopening an old, devastating wound. It was remembering what he lost and knowing what he did to his soulmate.

What was stopping him now, from talking to him again? From reconnecting with the only person who truly knew him?

Nothing.

Everything.

Viktor was deathly afraid that if he opened his locket, there wouldn't be a single light inside. That thought alone — that he had wasted it, that the people meant for him had died — had kept Viktor tossing and turning through too many nights.

And even if they were alive, he knew that his second soulmate would not even remember him. Viktor had left them when they were only a week or so old, and it had been years and years since that day. And for all he knew, his first soulmate could be married now, with children of his own. Even if Viktor doubted K was that kind of person, Viktor refused to repeat his father's mistakes. It had destroyed his mother. It had destroyed _him_.

What would Viktor even say, upon his return from the dead? What excuses could he possibly offer K, who had been nothing but patient with him?

K had forgiven him many, many times when they knew each other. But Viktor doubted he could ever forgive him for this.

Makkachin whined beside him, and pushed her nose into Viktor's hand. Viktor smiled, sinking his fingers into her soft fur as she wagged her tail. He slid off his chair and joined her on the rug. At least here, in his home with his dog, he didn't need to wear gloves. A few years back, an older man had grabbed hold of Viktor's hair in the street, almost pulling him to the ground. Everyone knew that contact with hair didn't spark a sunburst, but apparently this man thought he would try anyway. Luckily, Yakov was with him and pulled the young man off while spewing many obscenities, but it was only one of many incidents.

So outside, Viktor flinched automatically at any kind of touch, despite his gloves. It was embarrassing, and his rinkmates always looked at him with pity in their eyes if they saw him wince. But at home, Viktor felt safe.

"I'm such a coward, Makkachin," Viktor whispered. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. Makkachin licked his nose, whimpering again. His vision blurred, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could do it. What was stopping him? "But I miss him."

He doesn't open it.

 

Balancing university life with competitive figure skating was just as difficult as Yuuri thought it would be, but having a genius for a roommate certainly helped. Phichit Chulanont was three years younger than Yuuri, studying computer science on a full scholarship, and was absolutely the cheeriest person on campus.

Yuuri also never imagined he would meet someone with a grand total of five soulmate lights, but then again, he had never met anyone like Phicit before. The lights most often shone around his neck, like a priceless string of tiny stars. Sometimes, in the back of their most boring lectures, Yuuri would arrange them into a halo around Phicit's head and spin them, earning them both disapproving headshakes and hidden smiles from professors.

Phicit was also incredibly adept at chatting with all five of his soulmates at once. While Yuuri couldn't tell them apart, Phicit had devised a system for the many lights that orbited him. Yuuri suspected that he could tell who was who just by the rhythm and style of the blinks alone.

While some people were shy or possessive of their lights, refusing to let others speak to their soulmates, Yuuri and Phicit were the opposite. Yuuri was more reserved, and only communicated with two of Phicit's soulmates via Morse code — a girl named Marisa, who lived in Brazil, and Phicit's older half-brother, Eric.

Yuuri was worried about how T and Phicit would get along, since he knew his soulmate could be quite irritable, but they got along famously (it truly seemed that nobody could really dislike Phicit). Phicit talked to T often, helping him study when Yuuri was otherwise indisposed with his own schoolwork. Phicit let T know it was him with a quick "I-T-S  P-!", and was terribly fond of shouting that catchphrase at Yuuri if he saw him across the quadrangle.

Phicit told everyone that Yuuri his best friend, quite often and excitedly. While Yuuri believed him, there was always something tugging in the back of his mind that asked him why they weren't soulmates, when Phicit had so many lights already. The more time Yuuri spent with Phicit, laughing with him, sharing dreams with him, and growing up with him, the more often these anxious thoughts arose.

Finally, as they were celebrating in their room one night after finals, the alcohol had loosened Yuuri's tongue just enough for him to bring it up.

"Do you ever wonder…why we aren't soulmates, Phicit?"

Phicit, in the process of sorting old notebooks with one hand while the other held a beer, looked strangely at him. "Do we need to be?"

"I mean…." Yuuri rolled on his bed, getting tangled up in the sheets. He kicked at it once but gave up, his limbs feeling heavy. "We are best friends, right? I've just wondered…."

"Just because we don't have a light doesn't mean we can't be close." Phicit put everything down and crossed their room to sit next to Yuuri. "I mean, you're so close with Mari —"

"Was close," Yuuri mumbled. "It's been years since I last saw her."

"Still," Phicit pressed. "No one really knows what makes two people 'soulmates'."

"They're supposed to be someone meant for you, someone important —"

Phicit crossed his arms. "But does anyone even know what that means?" Yuuri doesn't think he's ever seen his friend look this troubled. "We've all heard of soulmates falling apart. It's rare, but it happens. These things just…connect us to people." He spun his lights and Yuuri watched as they floated by, five identical tiny stars.

"Maybe sometimes…they're meant to bring us closer to people we never would have known otherwise," Phicit said.

Yuuri grinned wide. "See? This is why you're the scholarship student, Mr. Dean's list."

Phicit laughed and tugged on the blankets, rolling Yuuri out of them. "Go to sleep, Yuuri. School is over for now, but skating never ends."

Yuuri's gut churned as he remembered having to face Celestino after his latest failure on the rink. Phicit collected all of his lights to place inside a locket — he could never sleep with all of them on. "Goodnight Phicit."

"Night!"

 

Yuri loved the dawn in Bulgaria, but he couldn't enjoy wandering the streets as much as he usually did until the competition was over. In fact, he was glaring at every passerby out of nerves when his light started blinking.

Strange. Yuri checked the day of the week and did the time zone calculation in his head — his soulmate was almost always asleep by now. Yuri quickly ducked into a public library, moving quickly past sleepy librarians until he found a secluded spot in the history section. His soulmate was still transmitting, but his rhythm was a little off, his dashes a little longer.

… Y-O-U-R-E  P-R-O-B-A-B-L-Y  S-T-I-L-L  A-S-L-E-E-P 

N-O  I-M  A-W-A-K-E

His light stuttered. W-H-Y  A-R-E  Y-O-U  U-P-?

W-H-Y  R  U-?

C-A-N-T  S-L-E-E-J

Yuri had rarely seen his soulmate make a mistake while transmitting. School must really be getting to K. He scanned the shelves idly, eyes passing over the Cyrillic. S-O  U  L-O-O-K-I-N  A-T  B-L-I-N-K-I-N  L-I-G-H-T-S  T-H-E-N-?  H-O-W-S  T-H-A-T  G-O-I-N-G  2  H-E-L-P-?

I  H-A-D  T-W-O  S-O-U-L-M-A-T-E-S  O-N-C-E

Yuri stopped, looking carefully at his light as if he could see K's face. He had never told him this before. W-H-A-T  H-A-P-P-E-N-E-D-?

H-E  D-I-E-D

Yuri closed his eyes briefly. The ease in which they first transitioned to talking coupled with K's tension made sense now. He had done this all before, and lost it. Yuri understood that. G-R-A-N-D-P-A  S-A-Y-S  I  H-A-D  A-N-O-T-H-E-R  W-H-E-N  I  W-A-S  Y-O-U-N-G-.  I  D-O-N-T  R-E-M-E-M-B-E-R  I-T  L-E-A-V-I-N-G

Their light held steady for a long time. Yuri leaned back against the stacks, wondering if he said the wrong thing. K was sensitive, but Yuri liked to think he understood him well enough to avoid the mistakes he so often made with other people. Wasn't that the point of soulmates, after all? To _know_ someone, better than you knew yourself?

I  T-H-I-N-K  I  W-A-S  I-N  L-O-V-E  W-I-T-H  H-I-M

Yuri bit his lip. How much had K lost? How much did Yuri really understand him?

They didn't even know each other's names.

B-U-T  I-M  G-L-A-D  I  H-A-V-E  Y-O-U

If someone walked by, they would have seen a boy in a dark hoodie, leaning against a tilting bookshelf and staring intently at a floating light for a minute, then another. But luckily, Yuri was not seen. He reached out.

M-Y  N-A-M-E  I-S  Y-U-R-I

Yuri's heart thudded, and he could feel cold regret pouring down his back. He wanted to grab their light and make it go dark, but he couldn't do that to K. Not anymore. Yuri turned and walked at a brisk pace out of the library, wanting to be somewhere he could scream.

But his light held steady — for the next few minutes, for the next hour. For the rest of the day.

When K spoke to Yuri the following morning, he called him T.

Yuri breathed out a sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooow I expected to get a lot farther in this chapter but it's already 2 long so I'm splitting it again. I blame Phicit.  
> P.S. I hate time zones


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Sochi Grand Prix Final!

Before Phicit was born, his older half-brother had immigrated to America with their uncle, and America was a big country. So while Phicit and Eric Chulanont spoke every day for years, whether it was through Morse code, texting, or Skype, they had never met in person.

Today, Eric was flying from Seattle to meet Phicit in Detroit. Soulmate meetings were always momentous, but to everyone involved with this one, it almost felt like a formality.

Yuuri drove Phicit to the airport, and even in the waiting area Phicit was talking to Eric through their light, helping him navigate through the terminal. While neither regretted meeting, they both knew that this part of their lives would end soon. Phicit's galaxy of stars winked all around him, but he focused only on Eric's.

Just as Phicit finished his twentieth scan of the waiting area, it flashed quickly. I  S-E-E  Y-O-U-!

Yuuri looked up to see a man who looked exactly like Phicit, if Phicit spiked his hair and spent his time weight lifting instead of figure skating. "Eric!" Phicit shouted, leaping up from his seat and running at Eric, who caught him in a bear hug and swung him into the air easily. Both laughed like children as their lights swirled around them and flared over their heads, flashing in vivid greens and pinks and purples. Around them, everyone in the waiting area started clapping and laughing along with them.

Yuuri watched as Phicit and Eric spoke excitedly, as if distance had never been a factor between them. His own light winked on beside him — T must have finished his movie. Yuuri wondered where he was, what he was doing the rest of the day. He hadn't spoken to T in a few days; Yuuri was busy and by this mutual silence, he was sure his soulmate was as well.

They were walking towards him now, one of Eric's massive arms thrown around Phicit's shoulders. "And who is this? Your boyfriend, Phicit?" Eric gave Yuuri an appraising look and winked. Yuuri felt himself flush. "Not bad."

"Eric!" Phicit smacked his arm and Eric put his hands up, laughing. "He's my bestie and roommate, Yuuri."

"Ah, Yuuri, we've spoken before," Eric reached out to shake Yuuri's hand. "It's good to finally meet you."

"You too," Yuuri squeaked as Eric shook his whole arm.

"We have to take a selfie!" Phicit already had his phone out and was holding it up over their heads. On the screen, Yuuri saw Eric and Phicit wearing identical grins as it flashed white a few times. With a practiced eye, Phicit picked the best one and was quickly flipping through filters on Instagram.

"Use Juno," said Eric, pointing over Phicit's shoulder. "It's my favourite."

They were soulmates alright.

 

When Yuuri qualified for the Grand Prix Final, he didn't remember much of the celebration Phicit threw for him, or what he mumbled to his parents over the phone about it, or what Celestino said to him on his most despondent mornings to try to instill some confidence in him. But above all, Yuuri had no idea why he chose his theme this year to be "supernova".  

He did remember that both himself and T were particularly irritable during these days. They alternated on cheering each other up, when they could. It would usually end with one of them snapping at the other.

Their worst fight happened as Yuuri was packing up for Sochi. He was also trying to help T through a math problem at the same time, but his soulmate just didn't seem to understand it.

I  C-A-N  T-R-Y  T-O  T-E-L-L  Y-O-U  A-G-A-I-K, Yuuri fumbled as he folded the good luck card his family had set him with one hand. He paused as he skimmed their words of encouragement for the dozenth time, the Japanese characters more nerve-racking than comforting, before tucking it in between two of his sweaters.

I  J-U-S-T  D-O-N-T  G-E-T  I-T-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!

Yuuri let out a harsh breath between his teeth. He slammed his closet shut. I-T-S  N-O-T  T-H-A-T  H-A-R-D  —

S-H-U-T  U-P  H-O-W  W-O-U-L-D  U  K-N-O-W  K  S-H-U —

Yuuri grabbed his light without warning, silencing T for the first time in an hour. He stuffed their light into his locket, closed it with a satisfying _snap_ and tossed it into his open luggage. Yuuri turned away and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror — worry lining his forehead and purple bruises under his eyes. Exhaling in a huff, he put his face in his hands.

He had a lot of work to do.

 

Yuuri's head was spinning so much during this time that he didn't remember his locket until he was in the waiting area of the airport, people all around him chatting with their soulmates.

It had been nearly two days.

"Celestino!" Yuuri grabbed onto his coach's arm suddenly. He felt a little hysterical, and the concerned look on his coach's face only confirmed that suspicion. "We have to get my luggage!"

"Yuuri, they're loading it into the cargo hold of the plane now. We cannot." Celestino spoke in the measured, steady tone he had been using for the last week on Yuuri. "What do you need?"

Yuuri got up and sprinted to the window, watching airport staff cart luggage onto the plane. It was possible that he was far enough. "Celestino, I'll be right back. I promise." Before his coach could protest, Yuuri raced away from the window, only slowing down when passing by TSA agents.

Now that he was paying attention, Yuuri wasn't used to his star's absence, the lack of light always at the corner of his eye. Sure, T kept their light dark often, leaving nothing behind then as well, but Yuuri always had his light at his side in airports.

What would he even say to T, if did he manage to pull their light out —

Yuuri could tell when he put enough distance between himself and his luggage when people behind him began murmuring about a comet. His star shot past his head and arced in a wide orbit once, then twice, before coming close enough for Yuuri to catch it.

"Try to avoid misplacing your light, son." A TSA agent frowned sternly at him. The telltale chain of a locket shone just under her collar. "We try to keep comets to a minimum here."

"Sorry, ma'am," Yuuri said hurriedly, turning quickly to get back to Celestino. His light shone in his cupped hands, and Yuuri saw it flicker a little, as if his soulmate had reached for it too, but pulled away. T  I-M  S-O  S-O-R-R-Y, Yuuri's fingers shook as he transmitted. He felt sick to his stomach, wondering if this was how N had felt, all those years ago. He sent three dashes and three dots, their signal for an apology. I-M  S-O-R-R-Y  I-M  S-O  S-O-R-R-Y

I-T-S  O-K

Yuuri felt tears form in his eyes as he remembered being eight, remembered watching his light vanish and never knowing if it would return. I-T  I-S-N-T  I  W-A-S  W-R-O-N-G  I-M  S-O-R-R-Y

K  I  S-A-I-D  I-T-S  F-I-N-E-!

Yuuri stopped as their light went dark for a few seconds —T interrupting him.

I  K-N-E-W  U  W-O-U-L-D  C-O-M-E  B-A-C-K  W-H-E-N  U  W-E-R-E  R-E-A-D-Y-.  I-M  S-O-R-R-Y  T-O-O

Three dashes, and three dots followed. Despite what his soulmate said, Yuuri still felt terrible. He vowed to make it up to him. I  W-O-N-T  D-O  I-T  A-G-A-I-N  I  P-R-O-M-I-S-E

I  D-I-D  I-T  E-N-O-U-G-H  2  U-.  F-I-G-U-R-E-D  I  O-W-E-D  U  1

A strangled laugh escaped him. T-H-A-T-S  A-W-F-U-L

R  U  O-N  U-R  P-L-A-N-E  Y-E-T-?

OH  G-O-T  T-O  G-O-!

In his seat, Yuuri kept his light cupped tight in his hands as the plane took off. Celestino told him that he looked calmer than he had in weeks, and Yuuri supposed it was true.

Yuuri wondered if his soulmate ever watched figure skating. Since his theme _was_ supernova, he would try his hardest to skate for him in Sochi.

 

At this point in his life, Viktor had nothing left but the ice. He had given himself to it, let it devour him. And while the ice never replaced what it reaped, it never took from him without giving something back.

So Viktor Nikiforov won his fifth Grand Prix gold medal. He plastered a smile on his face and held it up for the press and roaring crowd with a gloved hand, blinded by all of the lights going off. He didn't notice the skater who came in sixth. He didn't notice Yuri skulking off somewhere. It was all part of the routine, after all. Nothing ever changed.

He stood at the top of another podium and let it all flood over him.

 

Yuuri didn't know what he was thinking, believing that he could measure up to all of them.

He sat in a bathroom stall, unstoppable tears pouring from his eyes. He could see every excruciating fall in perfect detail, could imagine the thousands of eyes on him, watching and judging. Some pinning their hopes on him, some hoping he'd fail.

He couldn't stop himself from flipping through the news in his phone. They wondered if he was injured, speculated that this was his last miserable season. They questioned why he chose supernova if his heart wasn't in it.

Yuuri didn't know why he thought he could do it, since he didn't even know his soulmate's name.

 

Yuri shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked away from the spectacle. Of course, Viktor won gold again. No one expected anything less. And despite all of his trash talk, Yuri knew he couldn't beat Viktor in the senior division next year.

"Tch." Yuri shuffled towards the bathroom, fidgeting with the locket on his left wrist. K had told him he would be back from whatever he was doing at this time, and Yuri really needed to talk to him right now. He glanced to his left and right before entering the bathroom. Inexplicably, no one really knew whether or not he had a soulmate still, except for his grandpa and Yakov.

Yuri pushed up his sleeve, and had just unclasped his locket when he heard some wobbly Japanese. " _Gomen_ …." A phone beeped, and the sniffles turned into full-on sobs.

"Ugh." Yuri turned from the mirror. It was that Japanese Yuuri who came in dead last. Yuri's blood boiled at the thought of the press comparing them in future competitions, just because of their name. He didn't need _that_ when he was already scrambling after Viktor Nikiforov.

Yuri swung his leg back and kicked the stall to end that pathetic blubbering noise. The Japanese Yuuri yelped, and slowly opened the door. "S-sorry!"

"There can't be two Yuris in the senior division next year." Ugh. The man looked even more wretched here than on ice, a mess of tears and shaking hands. Yuri curled his lip into a sneer. He stuck his finger in the Japanese Yuuri's splotchy face, pinpointing the moment the man flinched back. "You're incompetent, and an embarrassment to our sport."

Yuuri's face crumpled, and Yuri felt vindictive pleasure curling in his gut. "You should just retire already —"

A flash in the corner of his eye, and one by Yuuri. Yuri hadn't even noticed that the man had a light. But wait —

Yuri's heart stopped as their stars moved together and seared bright, bleeding in the air and scattering blue and white and yellow light. He flinched in sync with Yuuri as the center of his chest burned — the formation of a sunburst scar.

As the feathery, ethereal wisps faded in the bathroom stall, Yuri saw his own shock reflected in Yuuri's face. "It's you —" Yuuri said, but a sudden nausea washed over Yuri. He twisted on his heel and bolted out of the bathroom.

After what he had said to him, Yuri couldn't bear to look K in the eye.

 

After, in the dark of his hotel room, Yuuri just felt hollow. He had just thrown away his chance at the Grand Prix Final. His dog was dead. He had met his lifelong idol, Viktor Nikiforov, and he didn't even recognize Yuuri as a competitor.

And above all else, his soulmate hated him.

It was strange. Yuuri's locket lay open, and at this time, they usually would have been talking about how their day went. The state of the weather. How much schoolwork they had. Anything at all.

He held his open locket in his hands, not used to its emptiness, not used to the absence of anything floating by him. He wasn't used to the idea of never talking to T — Yuri Plisetsky, he supposed — through Morse code again. And judging by the look of disgust on Yuri's face before he left, perhaps they would never talk again at all.

It was said that when soulmates found each other, their stars disappeared because they had found their real light. It was corny, it was sappy and romantic, but deep inside, Yuuri had believed it.

He was going to get roaring drunk tonight.

 

In the early days, Viktor spent most of his time at banquets attempting to blend into the wallpaper. But with gold around his neck, he quickly learned how futile that was, and found that a polished smile and a few repeated phrases could get him through the night quickly enough.

Viktor was using this extensively tonight, but he was already feeling exhausted when he ran into Yuri. The boy had been lurking about the place, evading everyone with far more success than Viktor had had. Yuri looked to be in an even worse mood than usual, and it wasn't just because of that ill-fitting suit he had on. "Why the long face, little kitten?" Viktor reached out to poke the boy's cheek, only to have his gloved hand smacked away. "Ouch. You should be celebrating, not being hurtful!"

Viktor laughed as Yuri shot him a death glare. "Get out of my face, Nikiforov," Yuri said, but his eyes slid to something behind Viktor and his face drained of colour. Yuri practically fled from where he stood, darting between Chris and JJ towards the food table.

Viktor turned and saw a very drunk Japanese man stumbling towards him.

"Viktooooor," the man slurred, his glasses askew. With his rumpled shirt and relaxed grin, he looked like he was having more fun than Viktor ever had at one of these. "Did you see where… Yuriiii Pliiisetsky went?"

Chris sidled up next to Viktor, a bemused smile on his face. "Yuuri. Been drinking, have you?"

"I wanted to taaaalk to him." The man was looking past both of them, trying and failing to locate Yuri. Viktor recognized him now — Yuuri Katsuki, the skater that came last place. Guilt crept over him as Viktor remembered the look on Yuuri's face when he mistook him for a fan.

Chris leaned in. "Talk to him about what, Yuuri?" Christophe Giacometti had an unmatched talent for sniffing out the most interesting person at parties, and it seemed that he had finally found tonight's.

"About… dancing!" Yuuri threw his hands in the air and Viktor flinched to avoid getting hit in the face. "But I guess I'll dance with you two!"

Suddenly, Yuuri began doing absurd, yet oddly impressive, spins on the floor — it took Viktor a moment to recognize it as drunken breakdancing. Chris threw his head back in laughter and began gyrating his hips to the beat of the music.

When was the last time Viktor had danced at one of these functions? He wanted to, he did. But he almost didn't know where to begin. As if sensing this, Yuuri spun to a standing position. "Dance, Viktor!" Yuuri reached out and grabbed both of Viktor's hands.

Viktor sucked in a breath and saw Chris flick a concerned look his way, but nothing dramatic happened. Just Yuuri laughing easily in front of him, Yuuri already guiding him in a dance. This stranger being so open and carefree and sure of himself. What Viktor lacked tonight, Yuuri provided in droves.

So, for the first time in a long time, Viktor dropped his guard a little, then a bit more. He felt that he could with Yuuri — somehow, it felt as natural as breathing. And after more champagne was drunk, and after Viktor had shouted himself hoarse cheering on Yuuri during his pole dance with Chris, he knew. Yuuri had his arms wrapped around Viktor and was asking him to be his coach, wide-eyed, red-faced, a mess. Absolutely enthralling.

Viktor knew that he would follow him anywhere.

 

The morning after, Viktor was stunned to learn that Yuuri had taken the first plane out of Sochi. In defiance of this and what anyone else told him, he was sure that he would hear from him soon.

When the weeks bled into months, Viktor Nikiforov tried his best to forget about Yuuri Katsuki. But it was hard, when the dark of his locket was the colour of that stranger's hair, when the rink was no longer an empty thing but a reminder of the man who had made Viktor so happy for one night.

Viktor skated in large hearts around Yuri Plisetsky, whose capacity for vitriol had somehow doubled after his Junior gold medal win. As Yuri glared at him, Viktor shot him a smile and a wink. He sped up and launched into a quad Salchow, following it with a single and a triple toe loop in quick succession. Easy.

Despite everything, Viktor allowed himself to dream of life and love.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all kickin off!!
> 
> wow remember when i first thought this would be 5 chapters? welcome 2 ten yall no promises that number won't go up either


	7. Chapter 7

It would be months later, in the middle of the last of his final exams, before Yuuri would see Yuri again.

It was an accident. His dorm often had figure skating on the television — when he and Phicit shared who they were and what they did, they started a brief craze for the sport in their residence. It was the World Championships, and Yuri was skating his short program. With his blond hair tied back and his sharp green eyes, Yuri Plisetsky looked nothing like how Yuuri imagined T would look like. And yet, his soulmate was there in every decisive step Yuri took on the ice, the crispness of his spins, his lean flexibility. Yuuri's heart soared with his perfect landings and fell with his stumbles, but no one could deny that Yuri Plisetsky was a rising star.

When Yuri sat in the kiss and cry, he spiked the lens with a determined glare. Yuuri almost flinched — it was the same look he was given the day they met, many months ago. But now that there weren't tears in his eyes, Yuuri could read him better. There was anger and a challenge there, but if Yuuri thought of him as T, there was also an edge of vulnerability in Yuri's face, or at least, uncertainty. And with the searching nature of his gaze, it was as if he were... looking for someone.

Finally, the score was called, and Yuri looked away.

Yuuri turned and left for his next final.

 

While Yuri Plisetsky dazzled the skating world, Yuuri Katsuki had faded from it. Celestino just said he needed to find inspiration again. Phicit said that he was too hung up over everything that happened at Sochi, and was adamant that Yuuri never deserved to hear any of what his soulmate had said.

Yuuri just knew that his heart wasn't in it. Eventually, the long absence of his light paired with seeing Yuri skate became too painful. Yuuri settled back to watching Viktor Nikiforov obsessively, the distance between them comforting. Lacking inspiration for his own programs, Yuuri practiced "Stay Close to Me" whenever he could make time for the rink, his only audience being Phicit.

During his university graduation, Yuuri sat through the long ceremony with a finger on his knee, desperately tapping messages to N, to T, to anyone listening. _You should be here. I wish I could still talk to you. I don't know what to do._

On stage, Phicit waved as he crossed, and Eric's resounded whoop from the back broke Yuuri's trance. Yuuri smiled as his best friend caught his eye. Though he was set on leaving for Hasetsu, Yuuri couldn't help but mourn this part of his life, the years where he lived with Phicit.

As Phicit posed with the Dean and the cameras flashed, Yuuri impressed this moment in his memory — his unstoppable best friend, haloed by four lights, looking as ridiculous as any of them in these robes. When Phicit quickly pulled out his phone to take a selfie with the grinning Dean, Yuuri laughed alongside their graduating class.

Phicit had told him this often through the years, but this was the first time Yuuri understood it. It didn't matter that they weren't soulmates. Yuuri was grateful for every boring lecture they had had together, for those cold mornings at the rink, for the nights they spent exploring the streets of this strange country. He looked forward to the times they would have together in the future.

But for now, it was time to go home.

 

When Minako picked Yuuri up from the train station, she kept up a steady stream of chatter on their car ride home. Yuuri barely had to talk, and spent this time looking out the window, picking out everything that had changed. The ice cream store he used to go to with Mari had closed down and had been replaced with a cell phone repair shop. They repainted the rails along the seawall from that rusting grey to a lovely green. And his family's inn….

His parents were waiting for him in front of it, and began waving when Minako's car pulled around the corner. Toshiya and Hiroko looked nearly the same since the last time Yuuri had seen them in person, but his father's hair was just a bit greyer, his mother just a bit rounder. When Yuuri got out of the car, a woman in a red robe stepped out of the inn. She stood by their mother, casually placing a hand on her hip.

Mari looked so different from five years ago. Sure, Yuuri had seen pictures, but they were nothing compared to seeing her in person. She wasn't as tall as he remembered, her hair was dyed blonde in parts, and she had double the amount of steel piercings since the day he left. But Mari still kept her hair back with an elastic headband, and she wore that familiar, relaxed smile. His sister unfolded her arms out in front of her, and Yuuri stumbled forward a little in his haste to step into them. Mari enveloped him into a hug as their parents embraced them both.

"Welcome home, little brother," Mari whispered.

 

Once they got past poking at his round belly and after Yuuri visited Vicchan, Hiroko placed a steaming bowl of katsudon in front of him. The Katsuki family sat down to eat a meal together for the first time in five years.

Halfway through dinner, having exhausted their questions about his graduation and departure from Detroit, Mari finally noticed the absence of Yuuri's light.

"Hm, are you hiding your locket, Yuuri?" Mari raised an eyebrow, a sly look crossing her face. "Or...."

Hiroko gasped. "Did you meet your soulmate, Yuuri? Congratulations!"

"Ah…" Yuuri ducked his head a little. He was so caught up in, well, _everything_ after Sochi he had completely forgot to tell his family about this. "I — uh —"

Toshiya smiled genially at Yuuri. "It was only a matter of time," he said, taking his wife's hand. "You were always talking with that boy."

"Tell us about him!" Mari tapped the edge of her bowl with her chopsticks idly, meaninglessly, but Yuuri couldn't help but translate that into three dashes and three dots in his head.

How often had Yuuri and his soulmate apologized to each other, over the years?

"We, uh, met at the Grand Prix Final," Yuuri mumbled. He pushed the rice around in his bowl — he suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore.

"Oh, is he another skater? A fan?" Hiroko clapped her hands. "Ah, how exciting!"

"Y-yes, it's — he's Yuri Plisetsky." The name was met with three blank faces and Yuuri couldn't help but smile. Five years later, and his family still knew nearly nothing about the skating world. "I'll show you one of his programs tomorrow."

Later, as Yuuri was unpacking his things in his old room, Mari ambled in. Leaning against the doorway, she lit a cigarette and took a long drag of it. Yuuri didn't know that his sister had taken up smoking. "Yuri Plisetsky, huh? You sure that light didn't just connect you to someone with the same name?"

"Sure feels that way," Yuuri muttered under his breath, setting aside his well-worn stationary set.

"What was that?"

"Uh — y-yeah! It feels pretty random." Yuuri rearranged his stack of textbooks, avoiding her eye. "I don't know why I brought all of this from Detroit, what will I even do with —"

"Yuuri." He jumped as Mari put a hand on his shoulder, and Yuuri found himself looking right into her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing —"

"You've been tense about your light since I mentioned it." Mari stepped back and took another drag of her cigarette. She blew out the smoke out of the side of her mouth, regarding him. "It hasn't been that long, little brother."

Mari was propped up against the door, every line in her body relaxed, but she was looking at him with that distinctive intensity of hers. It was the same intensity she had fixed him with when she helped him with his light for the first time, when he first began thinking about going to college in America, when he had tried to hide his worsening anxiety from her. It was a look that meant that resistance was futile. Yuuri sighed. "He — I don't think he likes me very much." Yuuri unfolded a sweater and his family's good luck card came tumbling out. "I-I think he just pictured me different in his head."

"Anyone who has my little brother as their soulmate should consider themselves lucky." Mari kneeled down and picked up the card, handing it to Yuuri. "You said that this one was a prickly boy, didn't you? He'll come around."

"But I don't have any way to talk to him —"

"There are many ways to contact a person these days, Yuuri." Mari smiled and tilted her head, steady and collected. Something swelled in Yuuri's chest as she looked at him fondly, as if there hadn't been a day lost between them. "Tomorrow, we'll get you set up on SNS, yes?"

In spite of himself, Yuuri nodded. He spent years brushing off Phicit's begging, but he couldn't say no to Mari.

Things were different, but this wasn't the first time she helped him reach out to his soulmate, after all.

 

During a particularly heated practice, Viktor made his way over to where Yuri sat on the bleachers, sulking. His step sequences seemed to be worsening by the day, and Yuri even flubbed some of the jumps he landed perfectly at Worlds. Yuri had been angrily shouting at anyone who spoke to him during the whole practice, and after he made Georgi cry with a particularly cutting comment on the man's lack of a soulmate light, Yakov demanded that Yuri sit out the rest of the morning.

The boy scowled as Viktor approached. "Are you sitting out because you're slacking off again, or have you come here to gloat? We aren't all five-time World Champions, you know."

Viktor sat beside him and yawned widely. "I'm just tired, Yura. It's been a hard practice, so early in the morning with you yelling so loudly."

"Tch, go back to bed then, you old man!" Yuri flipped up his hood and kicked up his legs on the railing in front of them. He still had his skates on.

Viktor smiled a little, mostly to himself. Yura was just so fun to tease. "What's wrong? Ever since the GPF, you're like little ball of rage. Shouldn't you be happy?"

"Nothing's wrong!" Yuri's lip curled. "Why do you have such a big nose to go with that big forehead?"

Viktor squawked indignantly and put a hand to his hairline, but he refused be pushed off track. "Always so cruel, Yura." Yuri refused to look at him, seemingly focusing on Georgi's camel spin below them. Viktor pushed again. "Does it have something to do with your soulmate? Did you fight?"

Yuri's face drained of colour, his hood falling off as he twisted to sit up and look at Viktor. "What?! How do you —"

"You aren't sneaking off at exactly 7 in the morning anymore. Are they from America? That's when they go to sleep."

"I'm not telling you anything, you creepy old man!" One of Yuri's eyes was twitching — it was at once the most furious and the most horrified expression Viktor had ever seen. Well, after the looks his mother sometimes gave him, years ago. "How — how would you even know the time difference? Is your soulmate American?"

The crack of Mila's blades hitting the ice echoed across the rink as she landed her triple axel. Viktor looked away from Yuri. "No. At least, I don't think he is."

"What do you mean?" Yuri's eyes narrowed. He had never asked Viktor about his soulmate before; no one at this rink really had. He must have seen the opportunity to ask and took it. Viktor sat back and his locket swung to hit his chest. Yuri leaned forward a little. "Do you not know?"

Viktor let out a hollow laugh. "Yura, I… I haven't opened my locket in years." There. He said it. Yuri was now one of three people who knew that piece of information. Viktor held an acerbic curiosity as to what he would do with it. "Can you believe that?"

Yuri's mouth opened and closed, as if he had a thousand things to say at once. "You — that's — that's awful! Even I would never —" Yuri glanced away, but a moment later the full force of his incensed glare was back on Viktor. "I don't know what your soulmate did to deserve that, Nikiforov. But if you left him, then he is better off without you."

Yuri got up and stormed past Viktor. He flipped his hood back up and shoved his hands in his pockets, leaving Viktor alone with his thoughts.

 

Yuuri thought he would be nervous skating "Stay Close to Me" for Yuuko, but everything about his childhood rink — the colour of the bleachers, the familiar echo of it, the way the air blew against his cheeks — it made it all go away. And as he skated, Yuuri could think about who this was for.

It was for Viktor Nikiforov, of course. But it was also for T, who was also Yuri Plisetsky, both a soulmate and a stranger. It was for N, who Yuuri had loved and lost and still loved, in a way.

It was for himself. Because Yuuri was tired of losing everything he wanted to hold onto.

Yuuko cried, after he was finished. She told him that she wished N could have seen it, that T didn't know what he was missing.

Yuuri had exhausted his tears in Sochi, in Detroit. Now, he was looking for something else.

 

Viktor Nikiforov saw the video. More accurately, he saw Yuuri Katsuki, reaching out to him from the night of the banquet. It was up to him to reach back.

Distantly, some part of him was picking out the imperfections of the performance already, but the rest of him latched onto how Yuuri captured that feeling of hopeless yearning that Viktor poured and poured into his own performances. He replayed it for the fifth time, and when Yuuri Katsuki stretched his arms out in front of him, Viktor was transported back to the night of the banquet. When Yuuri had taken his hands and coaxed him to let it all go.

It was enough to get him to look up direct flights to Japan. There was nothing left for Viktor in Russia but a career that was suffocating him, a rink that no longer felt like home, and streets full of people who thought they owned a piece of him. There was a dusty blue house in St. Petersburg with too many rooms, the master bedroom locked tight, key thrown away years ago.

For once, Viktor Nikiforov didn't think about looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's like for every chapter I set out to write I have to add two more onto the total end count what's up with that
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this one!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We land in Hasetsu.

Viktor Nikiforov was greeted by a lovely Japanese couple when he entered Yu-topia Katsuki. They suggested that he try the hot springs, and he politely declined.

"Try the Ice Castle instead then." The woman in red taking his baggage tossed this at him casually, not sparing him a second glance. "It's a popular spot for tourists right now."

The Katsukis had no idea who he was. It was… refreshing, honestly. So despite the ache in his bones and kink in his neck from travelling, Viktor went.

He was also absolutely sure that he would find who he was looking for there.

While the family that ran the hot springs didn't know who he was, Viktor doubted that would be the same for the employees of the ice rink. And sure enough, the woman at the counter nearly screamed when she saw him.

"You — you're Viktor Nikiforov! Yuuri is going to —"

The crack of blades on ice. Yuuri Katsuki landed a quad toe with ease and transitioned into a frighteningly fast step sequence that Viktor knew (from the months he spent delving into Yuuri's past performances) was from his short program two years ago. He looked lost in the music, a terribly serious look on his face. The strength of his arms, the flow of his lines, the way that Yuuri glided across the ice without a care of who was watching — it was all drastically different from competition. It was abundantly clear that this rink was _Yuuri's_.

Viktor fidgeted absent-mindedly with the cuff of his glove. "Ah. He's quite marvelous, isn't he?"

The woman beside him nodded fiercely. "He's Japan's ace, and the pride of Hasetsu. It's been wonderful, watching him grow into who he is now."

Viktor looked back at the woman now. "I've been terribly rude. You have me at a disadvantage, miss—?"

"Yuuko Nishigori." She was blushing madly, and turned an even deeper shade of red when she shook Viktor's hand.

"Ah, I'm sorry about the gloves —"

"It's okay!" she squeaked. "I — uh, know."

Of course. Everyone who knew his name knew.

A sudden yelp caught their attention. Yuuri had fallen while attempting a jump, but he was already getting up. He was turning to look back at them, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. Viktor reminded himself to breathe.

Yuuri met Viktor's eyes. Suddenly, Viktor couldn't remember the greeting he had rehearsed on the plane. Yuuri's cheeks were flushed and his hair was plastered to his forehead from the exertion. He was squinting at them. If he were wearing a suit rather than sweats, Yuuri would have looked no different than the boy at the banquet, the man that had occupied Viktor's daydreams for months after.

Then Yuuri's face drained of colour and his mouth opened to form a perfect "O".

Viktor scrambled for something, anything, and grasped what was easiest. He shot him a wide smile and waved cheerily. "Yuuri! Wonderful skating, but starting today, I will be your new coach!"

At first, Yuuri just stood there, seemingly frozen in shock. Then one of his skates slipped forward and he waved his arms wildly to rebalance himself. He began stumbling towards them, as if the ice were foreign to him. "Vik-Viktor? What — why—?"

"Like I said!" Viktor tried to throw him his most charming smile, but his cheeks felt a bit strained. "With me as your coach, you will win the Grand Prix Final!"

Yuuko squealed and rushed forward to take Yuuri's hand as he reached the mouth of the rink. "That's so exciting! Congratulations!"

Viktor swallowed. He was suddenly acutely aware that he had not planned this far ahead. Yuuko was pressing something into Yuuri's hands — he was slipping on a pair of blue glasses. The large frames made his face look rounder — no, softer. Viktor swallowed again. Yuuri blinked owlishly at Viktor, still at a loss for words. "Are you — are you really…." His faint voice trailed off.

"Yes." Viktor kept his smile on his face. "Now, we really must get to know each other a bit better. Shall we?"

Yuuri Katsuki led Viktor back to his family's inn in near silence. He answered Viktor's questions with one word responses, barely sparing him a glance as they walked along streets coloured by sunset. 

 _He must still be in shock_ , Viktor reasoned to himself as he ate the wonderful dish Yuuri's mother placed in front of him. But when Yuuri scrambled around him to race to his room, Viktor felt something in his heart slip. Viktor waved off any apologies from Hiroko and avoided Mari's shrewd stare. He also retired to his room early, partly due to jetlag, but mostly because he had to think.

As Viktor curled up with Makkachin he was forced to acknowledge that he didn't know what he was doing here. Was he here to coach a talented skater who was struggling, a skater who should have been at Worlds with Viktor? Or did he just want to be swept off his feet again? To relive the best night of his life?

What did he expect to happen, coming here?

Makkachin whined, licking his face gently. Viktor sighed and combed his fingers through her fur, over and over. If Yuuri would have him, he would stay. He would.

When Viktor finally drifted off to sleep, he dreamt of distant stars.

 

Yuuri didn't complain once through the hard week of fitness training Viktor Nikiforov put him through, even if he usually collapsed after the end of every long run. Viktor often distracted Yuuri from the seizing in his lungs by asking him strangely personal questions in an effort to "grow their relationship".

"How did you get that scar below your left ear?"

"What did you want more than anything when you were eleven?"

"Have you ever been in love?"

That last one almost made Yuuri fall off the bench he was jumping on. Viktor seemed to pounce on that, his smile wide. "Really? Any past lovers?"

"No, no!" Yuuri waved his hands in front of him. Viktor always looked at him with the most rapt attention, stars glimmering in the blue of his eyes. Looking into them always felt like walking in the ocean in the summer and slipping into the drop off. 

"I mean I — I was in love, once."

"Oh?" Viktor's voice had gone a bit softer, but he still had that mischievous look on his face. "Do they have a name?"

Yuuri bit his lip and went back to his exercise, avoiding Viktor's smirk. "I was very young." He was so focused on looking away that he almost missed what Viktor murmured next.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't real."

Yuuri paused as he landed on the bench, a small smile on his face.

After Yuuri took a picture of Viktor with Hasestu castle, he noticed that Yuri Plisetsky had liked it almost immediately after it went up on Instagram.

Yuuri hadn't posted a single photo yet on the account Mari had made for him. But when he had nervously followed "yuri-plisetsky" yesterday, he had been followed back.

Neither had messaged the other yet.

"It looks like Yura is the only one following you on Instagram, Yuuri," Viktor tapped his phone decisively with his gloves. Yuuri still hadn't asked about them. "Now I'm following you too!"

"Uh, thanks, I think." Yuuri looked away from Viktor's hands before he could be caught staring. Up close like this, Viktor looked… different from how he looked in the photos that once adorned Yuuri's room. There was still that confidence in the way Viktor held himself, but it was also as if there was a line of tension constantly running through him.

Viktor didn't seem to notice Yuuri's staring. "You know, Yura is quite selective about who he follows." Viktor scrolled through his phone, a casual hand on his hip. "Did you meet him at the GPF, leave a good impression?"

"We — yeah, we met at the GPF." Right. Yuuri chewed the inside of his cheek. Viktor kept saying that they needed to be closer for their relationship to improve, so…. "Actually, we're soulmates."

"WHAT?!" Viktor reeled back, nearly dropping his phone. He was looking at Yuuri as if he had never seen him before. "You and Yura? You two couldn't be more different!"

Yuuri laughed shakily, pushing his glasses up. "That’s — that's what I thought too, when I met him. H-hey, how about I take another picture for you —"

Viktor didn't hear him, and was suddenly holding onto Yuuri's wrist. "What was it like to meet him? Do you have a soulmate mark? Can I see it?"

"Um, sure." Yuuri reached up to unzip the top of his jacket with his free hand, but Viktor let go of his other wrist. He pulled the neck of his shirt down. Yuuri's soulmate mark was a few shades lighter than the rest of his skin, and had a slight shimmer to it, like smooth scar tissue. It radiated out from the centre of his chest, and was slightly bigger than a coin.

It had taken a week for Yuuri to get used to the sight of it in the mirror. It took months for him to stop reaching out for a light no longer there.

Viktor didn't get too close, and regarded Yuuri with a strange look on his face after he let go of his shirt. "Yura always ducked out of practice in the morning to wish you goodnight, you know. But he was miserable after the GPF. Did something…?"

"We fought, when we met," Yuuri said, zipping his jacket back up. He gripped the plastic tab firmly as he fought to keep the misery off his face. It left a mark on his skin. "We haven't spoken since."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Viktor pulled his glove on tighter, the brown leather soft and well-worn. "Sometimes, your soulmate doesn't choose you back."

It was only when Yuuri had retired to his room and Viktor to his, when he was replaying that conversation over and over in his head, did he realize how strange Viktor's voice had sounded at that moment. It was as if he were reading it off a piece of paper, or quoting a line from an old play.

 

Yuri had been trying to track down Viktor ever since he left. That old man owed him a senior program choreography, and with Yuri still struggling at the rink, he knew he needed it now more than ever.

But when Yuri found that Viktor was with _his_ soulmate, that gave him pause.

Yuri wanted to talk to Yuuri again. He really did. But messaging him over Instagram… that just _couldn't_ be how Yuri would apologize to him. It seemed wrong, after they had spent years talking through light. 

But Viktor had flown over there in person. And that — that might be enough.

And even if everything goes south, if Yuuri hated him and never wanted to talk to him again, then at least Yuri would get the choreography he was owed.

Before he could change his mind, Yuri packed lightly and booked a flight to Japan.

 

"Yuuri!"

Yuuri looked up to see a vividly bright phone screen waving in front of his face. He stumbled back, and Viktor laughed.

"Look at this picture Yura just posted!"

"Viktor, you should be more worried about all the reporters at our door." Yuuri shot a glance at the entrance to the Ice Castle, a hoard of mic bobs and cameras just beyond the glass. "Even Takeshi has his limits. He and the triplets can't hold them all off forever."

Viktor pouted. "But I'm helping you with your soulmate, Yuuri! Look!"

Yuuri looked. Yuri had posted a picture on Instagram of himself wearing a black T-shirt with an embroidered tiger on it. On anyone else, it would have looked reprehensibly gaudy, but on Yuri, it fit. "That's... nice."

"Do you want me to comment on it? What should I say?"

Yuuri sighed. "It's fine, Viktor." Viktor had been talking about Yuri Plisetsky non-stop ever since Yuuri told him they were soulmates. And while Yuuri appreciated the gesture (and the update on his soulmate ever since they broke contact), he still wasn't used to even thinking of Yuri as T.

Viktor waved the phone again. Now that Yuuri thought about it, something did seem familiar —

The front doors slammed open. A small figure darted through just as they closed again.

"Viktor —"

"Yuuri, look!" Yuuko was jumping up and down, waving at them. "Look who's here!"

Yuri Plisetsky was slouching beside her, hands in his pockets, a tiger emblazoned on his chest.

 

Yuri wasn't sure what he was expecting, looking at his soulmate's face. Yuuri's eyes were absurdly large, emphasized by his huge glasses. He was standing a little in front of Viktor, who had the widest and most terrible grin on his face.

"Yuri Plisetsky..." said Yuuri, stepping forward. "What...."

"I, uh, came here to talk to you." Yuri dig the tip of his shoe into the floor. This tiny rink was where Yuuri must have grown up skating. "Alone," he added, shooting a glare a Viktor.

Yuuri led him to a bench in the locker room, closing the door behind them. "We won't be bothered. I know the person who runs the place."

"Oh, uh, good." Yuri's throat felt dry. One of the lockers next to Yuuri had a string of Japanese characters scratched into its paint. "I, um—"

"It was nice of you to come all the way here to see me," said Yuuri, gently.

Yuri frowned. "I didn't come just for you." His soulmate blinked once, twice. Yuri sucked in a breath. "Um, I'm — c-could we start over?"

"Starting over would be nice," said Yuuri. He held out his hand. "I'm Yuuri Katsuki."

Yuri stared a moment too long before taking it. "Yuri Plisetsky."

Yuri never spent long trying to imagine what K looked like. Yuri knew he was older, he knew he was Japanese, but beyond that, he didn't care. It never mattered, because Yuri never thought they would meet.

For a long time, he never wanted them to meet. But here he was, across from K and his round face, his brown eyes. The familiar face of a competitor he had long wanted to surpass. Katsuki. "You never told me you skated."

Yuuri smiled. "I think I mentioned it, once or twice."

"You said you went to your university's rink sometimes! Not that you were competitive!"

"I, uh, didn't want you to know." Yuuri ducked his head a little "Just having my family watch makes me nervous. I didn't want you to see me fail."

"Well, I saw you anyway." Yuri shot him a glare, hating that sad look on Yuuri's face. "And you're not a failure. I looked up to you as a skater, when I was younger."

Yuuri looked up. "Really?"

Now the floor tiles of the locker room were suddenly incredibly interesting to Yuri. "Y-yeah. And I still... well, you shouldn't think you are a failure." Yuuri looked as if he were about to cry again. "No soulmate of mine should think they are a loser."

Yuuri's lip was wobbling now, and Yuri wondered why he was always making his soulmate cry when the door flew open. Viktor squawked as he fell forwards, barely catching himself.

Yuri couldn't believe it. "VIKTOR!"

Viktor put his hands up. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it!"

Yuri growled, but Yuuri burst out laughing across from him, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "Both of you! Are so—!" He laughed again, hands clutching his stomach. Yuri looked at Viktor uneasily. Viktor shrugged.

They waited until Yuuri settled down. "Yuri, you must be tired from your flight. I know just where you can stay."

Yuri leapt up to follow Yuuri out. He was glowering at the sheepish look Viktor was giving him when Yuuri's words hit him. "No — you don't meet your family's inn do you? Will I get to meet your family? Your sister?"

"Her name is Mari," Yuuri said, smiling down at him. "And yes."

"Oh, now I'm nervous," Yuri muttered, patting down his shirt. He didn't notice how Viktor fell back a step, trailing behind them. 

 

When Yuuri introduced him to his family, they greeted Yuri with a trace of coldness in their eyes. Yuri knew he deserved it, and he also knew that he had to prove himself to them. He resolved to himself that he would.

As Yuuri was leaving after showing Yuri his room, he quickly turned back, pulling out his phone. "I almost forgot! We should exchange numbers."

Yuri nodded, plugging in the numbers Yuuri rattled off. He couldn't resist putting Yuuri as "K" in his phone, and judging by the look on Yuuri's face as he put in Yuri's number, he imagined that his soulmate had done something similar.

Yuri was disgusted with both of them.

"Well, this doesn't compare to our light, but it'll have to do," Yuuri said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "I, uh, I'll see you tomorrow… Yura."

 _Yura_. Yuri tried not to let his delight show on his face. "You too."

Yuuri gave him one last smile, and Yuri slid the door closed as he turned away.

He breathed out. He did it. After months of silence, he was staying in Yuuri's family's inn. Within a matter of hours of landing in the country, Yuri had his soulmate back.

He could have done this all sooner. But Yuri also knew that he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to, without Viktor's meddling back home and this last unintentional push. Another person to thank. Yuri sighed.

That night, as Yuri was lying awake in an unfamiliar bed, with unfamiliar sheets pulled up to his chin, his phone lit up. Tilting it and squinting in the darkness, Yuri saw the letter "K".

K: _Goodnight, T!_

Yuri smiled wide, and replied back. _Night, K_

Yuuri was wrong about one thing. Even if this wasn't a special light linking them together, it was still them reaching out to each other, it was them talking again. It was enough. It was more than enough.

Yuri closed his eyes and drifted off to a gentle, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: this came out waaay later than I wanted it to; it's been a hectic few weeks for me!
> 
> P.S. Mari knew exactly who Viktor was, she bought Yuuri half of his posters
> 
> P.P.S. I'm positive that in this world, all touchscreens would be able to be used with gloves on (yes, there are some special gloves that exist but they suCK). We should take note because sometimes it's cold out and I wanna snapchat


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the person you knew as light takes the shape of flesh and blood.

"Viktor promised you some choreography?"

Yuri nodded fiercely. "If you think you can run to another country to avoid me, you're wrong."

Viktor hummed, taking a sip of his tea. "I just forgot, Yuri. You know me."

"Typical." Yuri rolled his eyes and went back to wolfing down his bowl of yakisoba that Hiroko had made. Yuuri thought that Yuri seemed a thousand times more exuberant than yesterday. He wondered if he was a morning person.

Viktor tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You'll both have to give me a week to choreograph two short programs. Why don't you two head to the rink while I think this through?"

"Tch." Yuri slammed his chopsticks down, not a noodle left in his bowl. "You're not my coach, you can't tell me what to do!"

Yuuri fought to keep a smile from spreading across his face. "Well, Viktor is _my_ coach, so I guess I have to go."

Yuri gave him a withering look.

 

As Yuri warmed up on one side of the rink with Yuuri on the other, Yuri wondered at how his soulmate transformed when he stepped onto the ice. Off of it, Yuuri Katsuki was almost a stranger. Whereas K had been confident and knowledgeable, Yuuri was a stuttering mess.

K had been faceless, made of light. Yuuri was real, made of flesh and blood and wearing those ratty old Mizuno sweatpants that he had on at breakfast.

Yuuri had finished his figure eights and was flying through a step sequence now. Once, years ago, Yuri had thought that Katsuki's footwork was some of the most impressive he'd ever seen.

Viktor still outpaced Yuuri there, just as he outpaced all of them. And Yuri could crush him in jumps. But still. On the ice, the disparate visions Yuri had in his head of K and Yuuri Katsuki began to focus into one.

Yuri skated towards Yuuri as he was catching his breath. "Hey, K!" Yuuri looked up. He looked different, without his glasses on. More familiar, maybe. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

A note of surprise flickered across Yuuri's face and he hesitated. Yuri thought he caught a flash of apprehension, but soon enough, he was giving Yuri a fond smile. "Of course. Where would you like to start?"

 

When Yuri Plisetsky had been made of light, it had been easier for Yuuri. There had been time for him to think about what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it, even if those pauses only lasted a few seconds. It was easier for him to talk to T that way, easier for Yuuri to guide him through schoolwork. These pauses were very much absent when Yuri Plisetsky was in front of him, because Yuri Plisetsky waited for nothing.

So Yuuri found himself stumbling over his words even more in his attempt to avoid messing all of this up again. Viktor's week passed by with little incident, but for one — Yuri had been crowing loudly that he was still a better skater than Yuuri just before practice. His only mistake was that he did it within earshot of the triplets.

Yuuri knew they were done for the moment they appeared by Viktor's elbow at the boards.

"Russian Yuri thinks he's better than our Yuuri!" exclaimed Loop.

"How about we settle this in a competition?" chimed in Axel.

"Hot Springs on Ice!" finished Lutz.

Before Yuuri could process what had happened, Viktor was shrugging. "I suppose I'll judge?"

"Wait —" Yuuri protested, but the triplets were already sprinting away, cackling. He looked at Yuri, who was grinning widely.

"I'm game if you are, Katsuki." He cracked his knuckles. "This should be interesting."

"I, uh, suppose so —" Yuuri barely got this out before Yuri was skating away.

"Hey, Viktor!" Yuri yelled, gliding towards the boards. "Can you hurry up and show us our programs already?"

"Patience is a virtue, Yura!"

 

And so now, Viktor had tasked Yuri and Yuuri with finding their inner agape and eros, respectively. Both found their assignments to be a seemingly unsurmountable task.

"I would have kicked your ass with _Eros_ ," Yuri said as they stood under the waterfall together. He could see Yuuri out of the corner of his eye, but the splashing water hid his face from Yuri. "This will just be a bit harder."

"I, uh—"

"This waterfall stuff is so stupid! How is this supposed to help me with unconditional love?"

Yuuri shifted beside him, kicking up some of the rocks in the river. "At least you didn't talk about katsudon."

Yuri barked a laugh but ended up with water in his mouth. He spat it out. "That was funny at least. Who cares about agape?"

Yuuri was quiet beside him. If Yuri was alone, he might have been able to lose himself in the water battering the top of his head, his toes curling over the small rocks in the river. But he wasn't alone, and when Yuri closed his eyes, he could hear the rush of cars along the nearby road and the squawking of crows flying over Hasetsu. He could hear Yuuri breathing beside him.

"Yuri, did I — did I ever tell you how I came up with my nickname?"

"What… K? Well, I guess it's just your last n—" Yuri froze, then ducked out of the torrent of water to face Yuuri. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and was looking at Yuri with wide eyes. "No way!"

Yuuri laughed nervously. "Yeah. My favourite food."

The wave of laughter that hit Yuri then was enough to throw him off balance, and he slipped on the rocks. He fell hard into the water, but he kept laughing.

"Yuri! Are you okay?"

"This whole time! You were a pork cutlet bowl!" Yuuri helped him up, and as Yuri wiped the blond strands out of his face, he could see that Yuuri no longer looked so nervous. "And even now you're still picking me up off my ass."

"We could make it even." Yuuri smiled. With his glasses off, his also looked… more confident. "Could you please teach me how to land a quad Salchow, when we get back to the rink?"

Yuri swallowed hard, and sniffled a little. The sniffle, of course, was from all that freezing cold water, dammit. "It's going to take more than that to make us even, you know."

 

Yuuri fell onto the ice yet again. Every time it happened, he felt his palms slick with sweat just before they hit the cold ice. He sucked in a breath from the shock of the fall, and his head swiveled to see exactly how disappointed Yuri was that time.

His soulmate wore a frustrated scowl on his face. "No, no, not like that! Watch me one more time!"

The doors to the rink burst open as Yuuri got up, and a dishevelled Viktor emerged. "What — are you two practicing already?"

Yuuri's heart sank a little as he realized his practice time with Yuri was over. He moved to get in the starting position for his short program.

"You're late," said Yuri, skating to Viktor. Yuuri tried to focus on his choreography, but his mind kept going to the quad. He almost had it. "Wait — are you hungover?"

"Was Yuuri practicing a quad Salchow just then?" Viktor sounded dazed. Coming out of a turn, Yuuri saw that Viktor was leaning on the boards, his chin in his hands. Viktor winked at him. Yuuri spun away before Viktor could see the deep red blush that was spreading across his cheeks.

"Yuuri asked me to teach him. He doesn't have it yet." Yuuri stepped out of his step sequence at that. Yuri had his hands on his hips, and Viktor was looking at him now. "Go lie down or something until we're done, old man."

 _What?_ "D-don't you want to start practicing too, Yura?" Yuuri called out.

Viktor smiled genially, his eyes flicking to Yuuri. "I'm sure you won't be long."

Yuuri hadn't realized he was drifting towards them until Yuri was at his side within a few bounds. "Again, K. You gotta rotate your right leg more. You won't fall."

Yuuri nodded, not trusting himself to speak past the lump forming in his throat. He skated across the rink, giving him some distance. Yuuri knew the Nishigoris were watching somewhere by the skate rental desk, and Viktor was watching from his seat on the bleachers. But Yuri was watching too.

Clearing his head, Yuuri gathered speed. Vaguely, he saw Yuri's impassive face blur by just before he launched into the jump. He put all of his momentum into his right leg and felt the rotations — _one, two, three, four_.

He felt the impact before he heard his blades strike the ice — he landed it. It was wobbly, but Viktor had leapt up from his seat, cheering. As he glided the momentum away, Yuuri sucked in the cold air of the rink, felt it in his lungs, and shouted with joy.

Yuri only nodded, as if he expected nothing less.

 

When Yuuri skipped downstairs to show his sister the costume he picked out, Yuri lingered back with Viktor. A mistake, because Viktor immediately opened his mouth and all his stupid came out.

"You and Yuuri seem to be getting along." Viktor tipped his chin to where Mari was marvelling at the embroidery on the costume, with Yuuri hovering beside her. "You're back to your usual level of prickly, and he seems happy."

""Shut up, Nikiforov." Yuri settled for gritting his teeth instead of clenching his fists, because he was holding his own costume. "Why don't you worry more about all those phone calls from Yakov you're ignoring? He wants you to come back more than anything."

"I know." Viktor gave Yuri a sly smile. "Do _you_ want me to come back?"

"Yeah, so I can beat your a—"

"Yuri!" Mari was in front of him now, her eyes sparkling. She had traces of glitter on her fingertips. "Can I see your costume too?"

"Uh —" Yuri glanced at Yuuri, who nodded. "S-sure."

"Can I call you Yura? I heard Yuuri say it, when he told me about your past few days here."

"Y-yeah, of course." Mari was admiring his costume now, while Yuuri grinned at him just over her shoulder. What Yuuri didn't see, however, was the dopey smile Viktor was giving him.

Yuri saw it. Yuri also saw Viktor look away, and Yuuri give him the same dopey smile.

Before Yuri could stop himself, he was shouting. "NO WAY, no, this isn't happening — holy SH—"

"Dinner time!" Hiroko exclaimed, and they all jumped.

 

The results of the competition were close. Both the Katsuki and Nishigori families cheered themselves hoarse, for both Yuuri and Yuri. Viktor had praise for both of them after, noting that while Yuri's skating had seemed so inspired, Yuuri's was bolder. What caused the most anxiety for Yuuri, surprisingly, was how intently Viktor had been watching Yuri's performance. Seeing his focus, Yuuri was suddenly struck with the worry that Viktor would decide to coach Yuri instead, but the logical part of him knew that was absurd. Yuri disparaged Viktor at every turn during his time here, and he only came to Hasetsu to receive the program he was promised.

The reporters were clamouring for a group shot now, with the triplets just barely keeping them all back.  

"How do you feel about the other's performance?" One of them shouted while the cameras flashed.

Yuuri paused, expecting Yuri to jump in, before realizing that Yuri was waiting for him to respond first. "I, uh, Yuri's skating was beautiful. I couldn't look away."

Another reporter cut in. "And do you have any words for your competitor, Yuri Plisetsky?"

Yuuri looked at Yuri nervously, unsure of what he'd say. To his surprise, Yuri threw him a grin, determination flickering in his eyes. "I'll beat you next time, Katsuki. I'm going to be the one to win the Grand Prix Final."

Yuuri laughed. "I see. I'll meet you there." They shook hands. Yuri's palm was warm in his own, and the cameras erupted.

"And Mr. Nikiforov! When will you be returning to compete?"

"That's enough for today, I think!" Viktor sang, and he place a hand on each of their backs. Viktor guided them away so they could take off their skates, and launched into a lecture about how proud he was they were teaching each other, but also what the two of them had been missing.

Yuuri and Yuri were listening, really. But they couldn't help but grin at each other every now and then, both still coming down from the adrenaline rush of competition.

 

The day after, Yuuri saw Yuri off at the train station. Yuri had just endured a bone-crushing hug from all of the Katsukis outside the Yu-topia inn. Mari had tearfully asked him to stay because he looked like someone from her favourite band, and Hiroko promised to send him a recipe for katsudon. Toshiya just stood there, tears running down his face.

It was all a bit overwhelming for Yuri, and it was actually an immense relief when all he got from Viktor was a cheeky retort and his customary wave goodbye.

Now, Yuri was tapping his foot anxiously as he waited for the train, but Yuuri was standing still beside him, completely at home.

"You didn't lose my phone number right?" Yuri asked. "You better text me."

"I didn't lose it. And I'll definitely be complaining to you when Viktor forgets to book our flight to the next competition or something." Yuuri smiled at him. With his glasses on, lit by this early spring morning, Yuuri seemed to have become the person Yuri imagined K would be. Or maybe, it was the other way around. "Ah, there's your train."

Yuri could hear it rolling around the corner behind him, but he didn't look away. "I'm going to win the Grand Prix Final, but I want to beat you to do it. So you and Viktor better focus, alright?"

"Eh? What?" Yuuri looked completely perplexed, but Yuri was already stepping onto the train.

"I'll see you on the ice!" Yuri shouted, startling the other passengers. The train doors closed before Yuuri could respond, but as it was pulling away, Yuri saw him fidgeting with something.

Yuuri was wearing a stupid grin on his face as a light flashed in his hand. H-A-V-E  A  S-A-F-E  T-R-I-P  T

"Of course the idiot has one of those cheap clickers," Yuri said out loud. The passenger beside him snickered, and Yuri stormed off to the back of the compartment, hoping that nothing else ridiculous happened before he landed in Moscow.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just gonna quietly leave this here and pretend a month hasn't gone by….


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tell me about Detroit.

After Yuri left, Viktor thought that Yuuri would be ecstatic to finally begin the second stage of his training. But too often, Viktor was left waiting at the ice only for Yuuri to come running in late, and he shied from any interaction between them beyond practice. Once, Viktor asked him what he was like when he was drunk, and Yuuri turned a vivid red colour and actually ran away from him.

Viktor didn't know what to do about this, so he merely squared his shoulders and smiled whenever Yuuri looked at him, trying to keep the blush off his own cheeks. Yuuri would look away all too soon, but if Viktor were honest, that just gave him more chances to admire his profile.

In the mornings, Viktor ran ahead of Yuuri on the trail — despite their time together so far, he could still outpace him. On this day, Viktor stopped by the seawall to catch his breath. A rusted metal gate that reached Viktor's waist was the only thing that kept him from the sea, a mesmerizing display as it shimmered by the light of the rising sun. With the dawn growing over Hasetsu, it was one of the most beautiful sights Viktor had ever seen, but he found himself saying things like that a lot in this small town.

It had to be ruined by his shoe coming untied.

Viktor knelt down by the fence, his gloved fingers fumbling with the laces. It was cold out, but he slipped off his gloves anyway, placing them on the ground.

He had just finished the knot when he heard a voice above him. "Hello there, Viktor Nikiforov?"

Viktor shot up, and someone grabbed his hand.

Someone grabbed his hand.

It was a young Japanese man with long hair, and his mouth was moving but Viktor couldn't hear him. Every part of his being was focused on the pressure on his right hand, that strange foreign familiarity of someone else's skin.

"—sorry, I had to shake your hand, you're doing so much for our Yuuri Katsuki —"

He had let go, but with the world swaying around him, Viktor hardly noticed. He tried to concentrate on his breathing as his heart thundered in his chest.

Viktor could hear his mother's voice, and it were as if he were five years old again.

The man was still talking. "—iktor? Viktor?" No — short hair. Glasses. _Yuuri_. "Viktor, could you put this on for me?"

His gloves. Viktor put them on, muscle memory. He reached out, seized Yuuri's hand. Something else. He just needed something to hold on to.

Yuuri ducked his head a little, but pulled Viktor forward, squeezing his hand. Through the haze in his head and through the fabric of his gloves, Viktor could feel Yuuri's fingers fluttering in his. "Viktor. Let's go to the ocean."

 

"Before I went to Detroit, I would sit by the ocean when I felt my anxiety flare up," Yuuri said. Viktor listened intently as he forced his breathing to level out. "There was just something about the water coming to shore and pulling back, slowly but surely. It was exactly what I needed."

The sun was near its peak now, hidden by an overcast sky. It was decidedly grey, and so was the ocean, and so was his own hair. If Viktor were alone in St. Petersburg, he would have wanted to be in bed with heavy blankets pulled over himself, and try to get up the next morning instead.

But he was far away from that old city here — this was Hasetsu, and Viktor wasn't competing, and he was with Yuuri. The northern wind was coming in now, to blow the clouds away, to breathe life into saltwater. Overhead, the seagulls flew.  

Viktor took a deep breath, sea mist on his tongue. "Could you… could you tell me about Detroit?" He leaned so that his hair fell forward, hiding his face from Yuuri. Their shoulders were so close to touching, their knees just tilting apart, and Viktor found himself resenting the space between them.

"It was cold, and wet." He could hear the grin in Yuuri's voice. "The winters were miserable, but wonderful. Phicit and I would often have to negotiate with the hockey team about when we could use the university rink."

"What about the summers?"

"If you stood on the banks of the Detroit River, you could see clear into Canada. It was… as if I could step into another country. And if you think the seagulls here are a nuisance, try dealing with a gaggle of Canadian geese."

Viktor smiled. "Seagulls always woke me in St. Petersburg."

"D-did they?"

"What were your mornings like in Detroit?"

"Loud. America never stops moving. It's exciting but… unstable. I always felt that it was very easy to be left behind." Viktor chanced a glimpse at Yuuri now. He was tracing something in the sand, a distant expression on his face. In this light by the water, with a look that far away, Yuuri appeared to be from another world. It made Viktor's chest ache. "I've always loved Hasetsu for its quiet."

"D-did you?"

"So…." Yuuri's voice had changed, and he looked up at Viktor now. He was very much in the present, very much near him. Yuuri didn't look away. "When were you going to tell me about that?" Yuuri gestured at his gloves. Viktor swallowed.

"I… it's…." Viktor sighed. "People tend to grab at me in the streets. The gloves are a deterrent."

Yuuri was silent, waiting for Viktor to go on. Viktor could listen to Yuuri talk all day, but opening up to him about this…. "My mother was… very controlling. She hated my light. I had to learn how to hide it from her or be punished, when I was younger. It was… difficult, to live like that."

Yuuri said nothing, and all at once, Viktor felt like he couldn't stop.

"Now that I'm older, I know what she did was wrong, but —" Viktor gave a nervous laugh, ran a glove through his hair. "I still love her. I still loved her, even though I — I'm like _this_ now, and I know I shouldn't be doing the things I do, and —"

"Viktor." Yuuri had a hand on his knee, palm up. An offering. Viktor wanted to take it, more than anything, but he was still shaken up by this morning. Nevertheless, Yuuri left his hand there.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the waves sweep towards them before rushing back out again. Over and over, as the ocean always had.

Viktor hadn't talked to anyone about his mother since the year she died.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my mother sooner," Viktor finally said. "I think I felt like I had to be… the Viktor Nikiforov everyone expects me to be."

"Viktor." Yuuri's voice, steady as the shore. "With me, you can just be yourself."

 

K: _Viktor and I made a deal. He says that if I become more confident, he will be more honest about himself._

T: _good luck_

K: _To which of us?_

T: _to both of you._

 

_Yuri on Ice_ was such a beautiful program, full of dreams and longing. As Yuuri did his stretches off-ice before he concluded his first competition of the season, the music in his ears made his thoughts zero in on his upcoming free skate.

A program about his life so far. Choreographed by Viktor and composed by a friend from Detroit, all so that he moved to the melody, the piano like drops of light. Skated by him, and titled after the name he shared with his soulmate, Yuri.

And Yuuri told no one this, but in his heart, it was dedicated to N.

He wished he were here to see this.

When Yuuri met Viktor at the gate, they said nothing to each other. It didn't matter, with the pointed look Viktor was giving him it was as if Yuuri could read his mind. _Lower the difficulty, less quads._

Well, Yuuri didn't want to portray a life without difficulty.

Viktor dabbed Yuuri's mouth with a stick of chapstick before giving him the strangest look. His arms were crossed tightly over his body, but he was leaning slightly forward. During their time together, it was apparent that Viktor kept a tight leash of restraint on himself, but with how open and light-hearted he was verbally, Yuuri had the feeling that it was extremely unnatural.

Viktor didn't hug him, but settled for placing a gloved hand on Yuuri's shoulder. Yuuri squeezed his arm gently in return, watching carefully for his reaction. The tension seemed to run from Viktor's shoulders, and as Yuuri walked past him, he realized his own steps felt lighter.

Yuuri braced one hand on the gate as he removed his skate guards. He tapped a quick staccato, mostly out of habit — W-I-S-H  Y-O-U  W-E-R-E  H-E-R-E

He stepped out onto the ice, and before long, the music was playing.

 

Viktor watched as Yuuri skated out the opening scenes of his life to the sublime piano, but his thoughts were also drifting back to the message he had tapped out on the gate. _Wish you were here._ For Yura, perhaps.

Yuuri leaped into his quad and Viktor sucked in a breath as he followed it with a double instead of the planned triple.

Viktor wanted to be irritated, because this meant Yuuri was going to push himself too hard, but he felt an inexplicable sense of worry instead.

_My mind must be trapped in Morse code_ , Viktor thought, and he shook his head. _Four dots and two dashes, wasn't that our signal for worry?_

As if he could ever forget his signals with K.

Yuuri wasn't nailing his jumps, but his body moved as one with the music, keeping the audience cheering even as he slipped out of landings. He looked enthralled by it, by the piano, by the steps. But no amount of performance quality could keep the audience from gasping as Yuuri smashed his face into the boards.

Viktor sighed as Yuuri transitioned into his sit spin, readying the lecture he was going to give him. But as the clear piano notes faded, Viktor realized that Yuuri was reaching out towards him, bleeding nose and all.

Before he knew it, Viktor had one gloved hand stretched out in front of him. Two, three strides, and Yuuri was clasping his right hand.

"You did well, Yuuri," Viktor said. His voice was barely audible, even to his own ears, but Yuuri beamed at him anyway. Viktor wiped Yuuri's nose with a tissue as the blood began to run down his face.

 

T: _good going with that face smash at the end there_

K: _How's practice with Mila?_

T: _shut up_

 

As Viktor sat down with Yuuri's family to watch his Grand Prix theme reveal, he could feel their eyes flashing quickly to the locket around his neck. None of them had asked him about it yet (out of politeness, he supposed), but Viktor was fine with pretending that he didn't notice their stares.

On the television, the other skaters were making their own announcements. Yuuri was off to the side, looking rumpled and wearing a horrendous tie. He looked a bit lost.

_With me, you can just be yourself._ Yuuri's voice rang through Viktor's head. But who was he, anyway? The shell of a person, born of a woman destroyed by the world and the man who destroyed her? A person who carried a shadow around his neck, one he could resurrect at any moment, but chose not to?

_Even if you came back, K would never forgive you_. Viktor curled up on himself, just a little.

Yuuri was on stage now. He was speaking passionately about something in Japanese. Gone was the boy who hid his face from him, who shied away from Viktor's pointed questions. This Yuuri was the one he met at the banquet, all those months ago.

If he is holding up his end of the bargain, then shouldn't Viktor do the same?

Viktor heard his name a few times throughout Yuuri's speech, until his voice suddenly went soft. Mari was smiling next to him. "Oh, he's talking about his soulmate."

Her voice sounded sad, but Viktor had no idea why. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You are the other half  
> You're like a missing piece" - Northern Wind, City and Colour 
> 
> Four dots and two dashes — worry


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's gonna get what he wants.

"I used to be able to message Yura on flights." Yuuri was pouting now, watching the other airplane passengers bring out their lights. "Now I'm just going to have to, I don't know, read a book or something."

"That's the tradeoff, isn't it?" Viktor had his eyes closed beside him, his head leaning back on the seat rest. There was a smile on his face as he settled in. "You lose your light, but you get to meet your soulmate in person."

"Hm." With Viktor's eyes closed, Yuuri took a closer look at his locket. Unlike the slick metal ones more commonly seen today, it was an old world-style locket, but a pretty standard one at that. The size of a chicken's egg cut vertically in half, the casing that midnight blue material with its characteristic faint shimmer. It had a golden chain, because of course Viktor would have a gold one.

From a distance, it had looked brand new. Yuuri couldn't see any major scuffs or dings but up close, it looked worn.

It was very old.

"Viktor..." he began, but the soft snore that answered him made Yuuri forget what he was going to say.

 

Viktor took Yuuri to what he claimed was his "favourite hot pot place on the planet", but all Yuuri could think about was how he ran his mouth off during the press conference an hour ago. He had Viktor Nikiforov as his coach, won first place in Japan, and blabbered on about how he would win with the power of love — setting himself up to fall off of the highest cliff if he failed in China.

"Have you spoken to Yura yet?" Viktor asked after the waitress took their order. "I know you were put out on the plane."

"Mhm, Yuri texted me. He made fun of my press conference," Yuuri said. His eyes fell back onto Viktor's locket, and he couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. "Have you spoken with your soulmate yet?"

Viktor froze and Yuuri felt his stomach drop. He was nervous as he waited for Viktor's reaction, but there was another part of him that felt a secret thrill — Yuuri wanted to know.

"I — uh, I —" Viktor looked pale, but when he looked up at Yuuri, he seemed to refocus. "I haven't spoken to my soulmate in a long time, actually."

Yuuri nodded. "I had a feeling. What happened?"

Viktor's shock was easy enough to see, but with him caught off guard, Yuuri could read multitudes in his expression. He could tell that Viktor hadn't shared this with many people, and talked about it with fewer still, if any. His shoulders were hunched a little, as if expecting a blow, but there was a glint of hope in his eyes. Viktor took a deep breath and pressed on. "I… I wronged him. I did something terrible to him a long time ago, and I don't… I do not think I can face him again." His locket tapped gently against the edge of the table. Too loud.

"Did this… did it have something to do with your mother?" Yuuri asked, his voice soft.

Viktor was wringing his hands now, the gloves creasing this way and that. "…Yes. But it was my decision."

"Viktor, you said it was a long time ago. You were young, weren't you?" When Viktor looked away, Yuuri persisted. "Did you feel like you had to?"

"I — I could have done better — I could have —"

"Viktor." Yuuri reached out, put his hands on the ones twisted before him. Viktor seemed startled, but he didn't pull away. The hands under Yuuri's slowly unravelled, and the leather was soft under his skin. "I don't know the whole story. But now… I know enough to see that it wasn't your fault."

A strand of hair fell in front of Viktor's wide eyes as he leaned back a little. His hands were shaking under Yuuri's, but Viktor didn't move away.

Yuuri knew he really shouldn't be fixating on their colour at this moment, but Viktor's eyes were so, so blue. "…do you really think —" Viktor began.

"Yuuri!" A voice broke Yuuri out of his reverie and he hastily pulled away from Viktor. Phicit Chulanont burst back into his life by throwing an arm around him and taking a selfie. "I found you!"

Yuuri looked back at Viktor, but it was as if a switch had been thrown. He had a camera ready smile on as he waved to Phicit. "Hello!"

"Ah, hello. Yuuri, is it okay if I invite Ciao Ciao?"

"Uh —"

"Great!"

In the end, Ciao Ciao, Guang Hong Ji, and Leo de la Iglesia joined them for dinner. Yuuri noticed that Viktor kept up a jovial mood, though he would grow pensive and let his face fall a little when he thought no one was paying attention.

Yuuri supposed he had much to think about.

 

"Yo."

"Hi."

"Yuuri — I'M GONNA KICK JJ'S ASS AT THE GRAND PRIX!"

Yuuri stifled a laugh with his free hand as he held his phone to his ear. He was in a 7-Eleven, his fingers skimming the selection of Chinese snacks. "I'm glad to see your spirits haven't been dampened by coming in second."

"Tch, of course not! I'm even more fired up now!"

Yuuri picked out a bag of cookie snacks that Viktor would like. "Viktor's opened up a little more."

"Has he?" Yuri's voice sounded strangely light. "Was it about his locket…?"

"Yes."

"I know what you're talking about. He told me about that." Yuri paused, and there was some shuffling on his end. "I… might have said things I shouldn't have."

"You say a lot of things you shouldn't, Yura."

"Hey!"

"I don't know about my end of the deal though," Yuuri nodded and smiled at the cashier who bagged his groceries. "How do I even become more confident? Yura, how do you do it —"

"You just gotta not care about what anyone else thinks!" There was the smack of sneakers on pavement, as if Yuri jumped down from somewhere. Perhaps from the bleachers in an ice rink. "'Cause you know you're better than everyone!"

Yuuri couldn't help but smile, and thanked the cashier in Mandarin. "What if I get so confident I become arrogant?"

"Don't worry. Even if you won every gold medal in skating for the next five years, became the most renowned katsudon chef in the world, and were elected Prime Minister of Japan, you'd never be as arrogant as Jean-Jacques Leroy."

Yuuri laughed loudly in front of the 7-Eleven, drawing all kinds of looks from passersby. He laughed even harder, and Yuri snickered on the other end of the phone.  

 

Soul lights were banned from the actual competition, but nothing stopped skaters from having them out during practice. It was always a wonder to watch the others during this time — there was little more sublime to Yuuri than seeing the light trails around his fellow skaters.

Naturally, all eyes were on Phicit and his three lights during practice. When he had five, it had always been an almost dizzying rendition. Yuuri felt that he could never see Phicit's face during it — he was almost cocooned by light.

Now, as Phicit skated, it was as if he were the conductor rather than a passenger. The lights moved with him in harmony, blinking incessantly. Phicit's fans often replayed and slowed down footage of his practices to read the messages his soulmates sent him — when Phicit entered a step sequence, Yuuri could make out a few _The King and the Skater_ references. From what Phicit had told him, Eric had by far been the most popular soulmate among his fanbase, with his exuberance. There had actually been some disappointment online, when they met in person.

But Eric was here now, in the crowd, to cheer Phicit on. And Yuuri knew that that was what mattered to the two of them.

Yuuri had long wanted to do an exhibition skate where he danced with his light. It had been done countless times before, but Yuuri had dearly wanted to do one of his own ever since he first began skating. He used to dream of performing one with N, imagined playing it back when it was all over just to see what his soulmate said during it.

As Phicit struck his ending pose, his lights slowed and broke out in chorus around him. Three stars, like the Summer Triangle, all flashing the same message. G-O-O-D  L-U-C-K  P-H-I-C-I-T-!

"Wow." Viktor's voice caught Yuuri's attention. He was still staring after Phicit in delight, leaning against the boards of the rink like the ice was calling to him.

Viktor didn't notice, but nearly everyone around them had their eyes on him. Yuuri could only think of what Chris had said to him earlier, how it was selfish of him to keep Viktor to himself. He thought of the media, the comments online, Yakov asking his former student to come back — Viktor belonged to the world.

But after seeing Phicit's performance, something had shifted in Yuuri. In his bones, Yuuri knew that every single one of them were wrong.

Viktor belonged to him. And Yuuri wasn't going to lose him again.

 

Viktor noticed that Yuuri was strangely intense as they waited for his turn to perform. Well, _noticed_ was a weak word for it — Viktor could feel it coming off of Yuuri in waves as he paced up and down the halls, ignoring everyone around him. He didn't even crack a smile when Eric tackled Phicit into a bear hug after his program and swung him around, skates and all.

When Viktor met Yuuri at the boards, just as he was about to skate, it was almost as if someone completely new stood before him.

Almost.

"You can skate with your own personal charm now, can't you?" Viktor smiled as he grasped Yuuri's hand. "You can envision it just fine."

Yuuri's gaze back at him wasn't just intense — it seized Viktor by the lapels, it made the world melt away around them. But with an unexpected gentleness, Yuuri entwined their hands together. "Don't ever take your eyes off me."

Yuuri pulled away before Viktor could reply, but there was nothing he could say that Yuuri did not already know. Just as he began to skate, Yuuri blew him a kiss.

Viktor wondered what his mother would have thought about that.

As the strains of violin picked up, Yuuri whirled through a perfect step sequence, never faltering, not a muscle out of place. He had been faultless during practice too, but all the more enthralling here, with all of the lights, with all of the eyes on him — no. As he slid into a spread eagle, Viktor could see that the magic here was all Yuuri's doing.

A triple axel. Done with so much ease that Viktor brushed that aside immediately as Yuuri prepared for the quad Salchow. He had struggled with it before, but now, in this state —

Yuuri nailed it. Viktor clenched his hands, but fear was the farthest thing on his mind. No, he knew this was something special. This Yuuri could not falter.

One more combination to go. Yuuri leapt into the air — spun once, twice, three times, another. Seemed to glance off the ice before landing his triple toe loop.

Four dots, three dashes. Viktor wasn't sure if it was the memory of happiness or the pride he was feeling now that was pushing his heart to bursting.

Yuuri spun to a halt as the music stopped, and Viktor shouted as the rink roared, his hands in the air as the bouquets fell to the ice. At the kiss and cry, seated next to an exhausted Yuuri, Viktor thought that he had never seen anyone more beautiful.

They held hands as the score was announced. And when it was all over, Yuuri ended up in first place.

All eyes were on him, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Summer Triangle: an asterism consisting of Altair, Deneb, and Vega, the brightest stars in their respective constellations. 
> 
> Four dots and three dashes — happiness


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's you.

Viktor sat on his bed in their hotel room while Yuuri took his coach-mandated nap. Judging by the purple bags under his eyes this morning, Yuuri had lost last night's sleep to nerves and he needed to rest before his free skate tonight. Viktor had practically thrown Yuuri into bed and after hearing a few minutes of tossing and turning, it seemed that he had finally fallen asleep.

Yuuri wasn't the only one feeling off balance today, because Viktor was sitting in their room in silence, his locket off his neck and cupped in his hands. Trying to force himself to open it.

There was no object more familiar to Viktor in this world. Not his skates, not his gold medals. Not even his gloves, which he had far too many of. It was this object that housed half of his soul, this locket that had never left his side for the last fifteen years.

If he could open it — no, when he opened it, Viktor resolved to throw it into the sea. Cupped in his bare hands, the locket looked like a the universe in an egg, shimmering faintly in the dim light of the hotel room. Its tiny stars were shaking because Viktor's hands were trembling.

If Viktor was right, then his period of solitude would be over. He might finally have a grasp on life and love, which he finally allowed himself to dare to hope for. He might finally be able to leave the past decade behind him and let his mother rest in her grave, a world away from him.

If Viktor was wrong, then all of his nightmares would come true. If he was wrong, then K wouldn't be the one that he loved.

But either way, he might not be forgiven.

Viktor looked to Yuuri at his right, still sound asleep.

He does not open it.

 

Yuuri knew when he woke up that the nap didn't help at all. He had fell during practice, trying a jump despite Viktor's warning against it. Yuuri felt all the eyes of the other skaters on him then, judging him — the skater in first place, the one with Viktor Nikiforov as his coach.

What would Viktor say, if Yuuri lost? What would they all say about Viktor?

As the other skaters went up, Yuuri could feel himself shutting down. His whole body was cold, even as he did his stretches and warm ups. The halls began to blur, and though in the back of his mind he registered Viktor taking him away from the television, Viktor blocking the media's view of him, Viktor placing a guiding hand at the small of his back, Yuuri had never felt more alone.

Viktor took him to the quiet isolation of the stadium parking garage. He planted himself in front of Yuuri, just standing there with such a serious expression on his face. He hadn't said a word to Yuuri since he messed up his jumps during practice, but Viktor had never taken his eyes off of him.

Viktor put Yuuri's earphones in and raised the volume of his music player until Yuuri was surrounded by the sounds of the ocean, the waves rushing in and out. Normally, this track would never fail to soothe him, even just a little, but today, it made Yuuri feel unmoored. The grey concrete swayed under his feet and Yuuri wanted to hold onto Viktor's arm, but he seemed so far away.

In this cement seascape, Yuuri wanted to think that it was just them down here. One nervous wreck of a skater, one naïve and inept coach. But it never had been just Yuuri and Viktor, had it?

They were something else, too.

Viktor looked away from him then, a frown on his face as he tilted an ear to the ceiling.

He didn't remember taking them out, but Yuuri's earphones were in his hands, and the loudspeaker was proclaiming Phicit's success to the world. The parking lot shivered, but suddenly Viktor was there, his gloves on either side of Yuuri's face.

"Yuuri! Don't listen!"

Too late.

Viktor kept his hands where they were. He was staring at Yuuri, but he seemed so concentrated in thought it was almost as if he didn't really see him. A frown tugged on Viktor's lips, but he didn't move.

So Yuuri did. "We should go, Viktor. It is almost time." Yuuri brushed past him, his heart beating painfully in his chest. It was all too much to hope for.

"Yuuri." He turned back to see Viktor running a glove through his hair. Distress creased his brow and his eyes were wild. "This is all my fault."

Yuuri could hardly breathe. "What are you saying?"

"If you miss the podium, I'll take responsibility. I'll… I'll resign as your coach."

How many more times would this man break Yuuri's heart?

"Forgive me." Viktor's hands were shaking, and he couldn't meet Yuuri's eyes. "No, I — I don't even deserve that. You need someone better by your side."

Hot tears began to stream down Yuuri's face as he clenched his fists. "Why are you — where is your faith in me? In yourself?"

"I — I don't know how to make this right."

"You —" Yuuri's breath hitched. Viktor had his arms crossed around himself, unsure of what to do. 

"I'm sorry."

"Can't you see?" Yuuri wiped furiously at his eyes and refused to let his voice break. "I've already forgiven you!"

Viktor looked up, the shock stopping him in place. All the air seemed to have escaped from where they stood.

"It's you, isn't it? I know it's you." Yuuri took a shuddering breath and threw a hand out in front of him. "Viktor Nikiforov. You only need to forgive yourself." Yuuri turned on a heel, away from Viktor's stunned silence, and stormed out.

 

The moment Viktor exited the parking garage, his phone rang. He picked it up automatically.

"Hello, Viktor N—"

"Nikiforov, you IDIOT!" Viktor winced, pulling the phone from his ear as Yuri screamed. He hurried over to a quieter hall of the arena. "What are you doing?!"

"I — what —"

"Yuuri texted me and said that you were being stupid again." Yuri sounded livid. "He's really upset — what did you do?!"

"Yura, I…" Viktor put a hand to his forehead and leaned against the wall. "I've made a mess."

"Yeah, okay, so fix it!" A thunder of applause roared throughout the rink. Georgi must have finished his skate. "Have more faith in Yuuri. And pull your head outta your ass, Viktor."

The line went dead as the applause faded. Viktor ran.

Yuuri was waiting for him at the mouth of the rink, his eyes still a little red. He said nothing to Viktor as he approached, and honestly, Viktor couldn't think of anything to say either.

How do you make up for fifteen years of silence?

Yuuri handed back the tissue Viktor had given him, not quite meeting his eyes. As Viktor was about to step away, Yuuri caught him by the wrist and tapped something out on his palm.

 Four dashes, a dot, and three dashes. Their signal for love.  

Then Yuuri was gone, sailing away on his ice skates to an adoring crowd. Viktor watched him go, and he settled into his starting pose with an expression of pure serenity. As the lights focused on him and the music started playing, Yuuri began his performance with a small smile on his face.

As he was now, Viktor knew he would never deserve Yuuri. But love wasn't about deserving, was it?

Yuuri spun into his quad toe loop and double toe loop with ease, making Viktor wonder at how quickly he had recovered from their fight.

"I should have believed in you, Yuuri," Viktor murmured to himself. After all, K had always believed in him, throughout the hardship and days of silence.

A quad Salchow. K had always been there for him when he came back, relentlessly forgiving, supporting Viktor when it really should have been the other way around. A triple loop.

Viktor walked away from all of that when his second star appeared. He threw those promises of life and love away. _No_ — Yuuri had said it wasn't his fault. That Viktor had to… forgive himself.

The piano slowed, and Yuuri leaned into an Ina Bauer, all grace and beauty.

Viktor was an unnaturally closed off person regarding himself, his real self. But his time with Yuuri had worn something down within him. It felt as if Viktor was the shore, and Yuuri was the grey waves, gently reaching out and pulling at him, endlessly. And like the sand on the beaches of Hasetsu, it felt natural to give way to him.

Yuuri stumbled through his next couple of jumps, but made up for it with a triple Lutz and triple toe loop. And his step sequence, well, it simply took Viktor's breath away. Deep down, Viktor always knew how resilient Yuuri was. How much wiser the other half of his soul had always been.

Love wasn't about deserving, and Viktor had already been forgiven.

Love was about reaching out.

And then, from nowhere, the quadruple flip.

"It's you. Yuuri, it's you." There was the man that Viktor loved, completing one of the most marvelous free skates in history. Yuuri's face was flushed and he was breathing heavily, but he reaching out to Viktor all the same, as he always had.

For the second time today, Viktor ran like his life depended on it. He saw Yuuri rushing to meet him somewhere halfway, a brilliant smile on his face. For once, Viktor didn't think about the past, didn't think about the onlookers. He forgot about his name, forgot about being anything except for Yuuri's Viktor.

"Viktor! I did great, right?"

Love was about reaching back.

Viktor launched himself at Yuuri, kissing him square on the mouth. Time seemed to slow as Yuuri's arms went around him, and Viktor held him close as they fell onto the ice. Yuuri's lips had been warm under his, too warm. The kind of warmth that Viktor had been hoping for his whole life.

As he pulled back, the arena erupted around them. In Yuuri's eyes, Viktor could see blue and silver and fuchsia streaming above them like fireworks, like the sun coming in. It must have been beautiful. But Viktor couldn't look away.

A sunburst mark was blooming on Yuuri's lips. He seemed to be looking back at Viktor's matching one. "I'm sorry that took so long," Viktor said.

Yuuri laughed, stretching his silvery star. "I forgive you. You came back, after all. Just as you said you would." Viktor kissed him again, feeling Yuuri's smile on his lips. He didn't think he'd ever get enough of that, for as long as they lived.

Too soon, Viktor pulled away and extended a hand to Yuuri to help him up. Yuuri didn't take it, and was shooting Viktor an amused smile.

Yuuri was looking at his gloves. "Oh." Viktor shot him a grin, pulled his gloves off and tossed them to the ice. Yuuri reached up and Viktor pulled him to his feet, the last of the supernova fading around them.

Viktor entwined his fingers with Yuuri's as they left the rink behind.

* * *

Across the world, with Mila positively shrieking in delight beside him, Yuri considered his debt to Viktor officially paid in full. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four dashes, a dot, and three dashes — love
> 
> And there we have it! Shout out to everyone who guessed the reveal — I laughed every time someone predicted a future scene and really wanted to reply more in depth, but alas, spoilers.  
> There will be a coda on its way to wrap everything up. See you all on the other side!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're on our way.

As Yuuri woke, he remembered that he was on a plane. His seat rumbled beneath him, and he was vaguely aware of some soft beeping coming from somewhere. His head was leaning awkwardly against his seat and his glasses were pressing uncomfortably against his face, but he was still warm and sleepy, so he made no effort to adjust it.

Then Viktor's hand moved in his, and Yuuri was suddenly wide awake.

Viktor had hardly let go of Yuuri since the end of his free skate in China, since photos of their fireworks were splashed across every front page online and off of it, and replayed several million times on YouTube. Yuuri was trying not to think about all of that, but it was hard when his social media was blowing up with it, when the barista at the airport Starbucks recognized them. His parents and Mari called to congratulate him the moment he got back to their hotel room (with his sister screaming about how she called it) while Viktor had gotten a group phone call from the St. Petersburg skating team (and turned alarmingly red during that long Russian conversation).

Phicit had called him and spent more time sobbing into the phone than talking. At that time, Viktor had been in the shower, so he didn't hear Yuuri crying too.

Yuuri opened his eyes and looked to his left. Viktor's head was on his shoulder. He was sound asleep, but his fingers were still entwined with Yuuri's. With the rush to get to Moscow, his locket was still around his neck, the heavy pendant out of sight under the blankets. Yuuri made a mental note to mention it to Viktor later, before his eyes drifted back up to Viktor's mouth.

 A faint star shimmered there, a brilliant sunburst. Yuuri's face had burned when he saw their faces on the big screen back in China and what had happened started to sink in, but Viktor threw his head back in laughter beside him, grinning widely at the camera. Yuuri could feel his face turning pink just at the memory.

Viktor's hand twitched in his again before tightening around his fingers. A small smile spread across his face before he opened his eyes. Viktor looking at Yuuri still felt like going out into a star-filled sea, like sunlight bouncing off the ocean. "You're awake," he said.

Yuuri didn't think he'd ever tire of Viktor's smile, his own sunburst reflected back at him. He touched his own mouth. "I guess I will have to live with this for the rest of my life, won't I?"

Viktor grinned wider, and leaned forward to kiss Yuuri gently. "I suppose you will."

 

As Viktor is hailing a cab, Yuuri's has his phone in his hand, scrolling through his contacts to hit Yura's number. They were finally in the same country for the first time in several weeks, and hadn't seen each other outside of their respective televised skates.

"Yuuri." Viktor's hand on his wrist, warm and sure. "If I know him as well as I think I do, Yura's probably with his grandfather right now. Maybe wait a bit?"

Right. Yuri hadn't seen his grandfather in months, and he was finally back in Moscow. Yuuri nodded. "The hotel, then."

 

After they pushed the beds together in their hotel room, Viktor pulled Yuuri down to sit with him. Yuuri was still a little bleary from the long plane ride here, but Viktor looked strangely intense, his blue eyes shining in the dim light of their room. While Yuuri leaned back on their pillows, Viktor sat upright in front of him. "I want to try to open my locket."

Yuuri blinked. Of course he knew about Viktor's complicated feelings around it, but wasn't it empty now? "Okay." Viktor's locket was around his neck, hanging between them. Yuuri reached out and weighed it in his hand. It was heavier than any that he had owned in his life, heavier than even Phicit's locket, when he had five lights to hold. 

Viktor had gone very still, and Yuuri realized he had never touched his locket before. Not many people had, he guessed. Yuuri let go abruptly. "Um —"

"That's fine, I just —"  Viktor frowned, and pulled the locket over his head. "Oh. Oh, I haven't told you yet, have I?"

Yuuri was more confused than ever. "Told me what?"

Viktor bit his lip, not quite meeting Yuuri's eyes. He fidgeted with the locket chain, winding tight around his fingers. "Sorry — everything just seemed… fixed, after your free skate. I… forgot."

Yuuri took Viktor's hands and began to gently unwind the chain from them. "Forgot what, Viktor?"

"Fifteen years ago, when I... when I left you, it was because I was scared." Viktor was frowning deeply, his shoulders curving inward. Yuuri wasn't surprised — Viktor had felt terrible about this for years and years — it wouldn't just disappear overnight. Something curled in his gut — anger? It wasn't exactly directed at Viktor, and in his head and heart, Yuuri was so, so happy he had his soulmate back. But there it was. "My father left my mother for his soulmate. I never knew him, other than the terrible stories she would tell me about him. I know that your sister is fine without a soulmate, but my mother... while she never said it outright, she hated not having one."

Yuuri was just holding onto Viktor's hand now. "Was she the reason why you disappeared so often?"

"She hated it when I spoke with you," Viktor said quietly. "She grew more… aggressive as time went on."

Yuuri's gut twisted, and he saw red. Of course. He wasn't angry at Viktor. He was angry at his mother, at a world that turned her into who she was. Angry at a world that made Viktor a target, which made him feel as though he needed to hide. Yuuri didn't let that show on his face, did not let the thrum of his anger pass through his hands to Viktor. There was no use being angry at someone long dead, but he could help her living son. "Did she hit you?"

"I was afraid she would." Viktor nodded towards the locket, still on the bed. "Especially when my… when my second soulmate was born."

"You have another…? Oh, Viktor, that's wonderful." Yuuri looked up at him, but Viktor looked troubled. "Ah. They wouldn't know you at all."

"I'm not sure how to explain all of this to them, but I want to try." Viktor picked up his locket, turning it around in his hands. He let it fall through his fingers. "Hah… I'm actually a little nervous."

"Just be honest." Yuuri pressed the locket back into Viktor's hands. "They might not know you, but they're still your soulmate. Someone meant for you, right?"

"Right." Viktor gave him a shaky smile. "Well, here goes." In one motion, Viktor undid the clasp of the locket, but stopped there. He was still holding it closed with his other hand.

"Hey. Breathe. I'm right here," Yuuri said. Viktor shut his eyes for a moment and breathed. He let go.

 The locket clicked open. A new light bloomed between them, a tiny white star floating in Viktor's hands. Inside, the locket shone gold and reflected that white light into yellow. It danced across Viktor's face, and he looked as if he was about to cry.

The star flickered and Viktor started a little. Something stung behind Yuuri's eyes, but he blinked it away. "Go on, Viktor."

Viktor reached out, his hand closing around the light hesitantly. His signalling was clumsy and out of practice, but he hadn't forgotten it. H-E-L-L-O

The light sputtered and actually winked out for a few seconds. But their first words to Viktor came along soon enough. H-I  T-H-E-R-E

"Yuuri! They're talking to me!" Viktor briefly grabbed Yuuri's hand before refocusing on the light. The message kept going.

D-O  I  H-A-V-E  A  N-E-W  S-O-U-L-M-A-T-E-?

Y-E-S  I-N  A  W-A-Y

Yuuri had spent the past few years speaking with his soulmate through light regularly, but this was the first time in a while that Viktor had done this. Yuuri had been without a light for a few months now and missed it terribly, so he wondered at how Viktor wasn't burst at the seams at this moment. The rhythm of Viktor's soulmate's Morse code was so… comforting to Yuuri too. It made his heart ache.

R  U  T-H-E  P-A-R-E-N-T-?

"What?" Viktor reeled back, looking utterly perplexed. "Am I the — what?"

"They must think their new soulmate is a baby," Yuuri said, barely holding back a smile. "They probably think you're the parent talking for it."

"Uh —" Viktor seized his light again. N-O  I-M  N-O-T  T-H-E  P-A-R-E-N-T

W-E-L-L  O-K

Viktor huffed, but Yuuri was positively grinning.

V-E-R-Y  S-O-R-R-Y  B-U-T  I  H-A-V-E  2  G-O  NOW-.  W-I-L-L  T-A-L-K  L-A-T-E-R

"Well this is anticlimactic," said Viktor. Yuuri patted his arm, and Viktor sent one last message. O-K-A-Y

The light between them blinked once before it went dark. And that — that gave Yuuri pause.

"Come on, I suppose we've got to go too." Viktor was moving, but Yuuri's mind was racing too fast to process much of that. He distantly heard the snap of a locket click close. "We can meet up with Yura at the ice rink."

The style of the messaging, the rhythm of the blinks. That last dot, before they signed off. And the timing — fifteen years, Viktor said. Fifteen years ago, N went silent, because his second soulmate was born. Well, Yuuri's second soulmate was _also_ born fifteen years ago.

They were always meant to find each other, weren't they?

He felt a hand cupping his cheek. "Yuuri? Yuuri are you alright?"

"What?" A broad smile was spreading across his face, but Yuuri looked up to see Viktor seated in front of him, looking concerned. As Yuuri's grin widened, Viktor's frown deepened. There was something wet on his cheeks.

"You're crying, Yuuri. But you're also smiling?"

Yuuri couldn't take it anymore. He pitched forward, burying his face in Viktor's shoulder and laughing into it. As small circles began being rubbed on his back, Yuuri realized it just sounded like more crying. He leaned back, wiped the tears from his eyes and kissed a confused Viktor on the mouth. "Oh, I have something wonderful to tell you, Vitya."

 

Yuri leaned against the railing by the river, tapping on the locket strapped to his left wrist. He was right outside the rink, waiting for Yuuri and Viktor to arrive, but he needed somewhere to think. Small cruise ships passed him by, filled with tourists and locals with too much time on their hands. If he squinted, Yuri thought he could see tiny blinking lights — soulmate lights, or the flash of smartphones.  

Another soulmate. Yuri remembered that just a few years ago, he hadn't wanted any at all. He hadn't believed in them, not in the promise of unconditional love, not even that these random people were somehow _meant for him_. But it seemed that his stupid romantic of a soulmate Yuuri was starting to rub off on him. Here were all these lights, linking him to strangers. Here Yuri was with this new light, and he _didn't_ hate it.

"Tch." Yuri kicked at a rock by his foot and watched it drop down and down, vanishing into the dark water. He had missed Moscow — the bitter cold and grey skies, the hugeness of it all. St. Petersburg and Hasetsu were beautiful in their own ways, but Moscow was all strength, with its sprawling buildings, its ring roads and highways, everything leading to the Red Square. This was his home.

His phone pinged — it seemed that Viktor and Yuuri had nearly reached him. Viktor knew where Yuri was — this spot was near the rink, and they had known each other for years, after all. It seemed that no matter what city they were in and wherever Yuri skulked off too, Viktor always seemed to find him.

He could hear laughter distantly, and Yuri sighed. He was happy for them — he couldn't deny that, though he'd never say it out loud. Yuri vowed that he wouldn't even say it on their wedding day, whenever that would be.

They were going to be insufferable enough together.

"Yura!" Viktor's voice rang out, and Yuri turned slowly, putting his hands in his pockets. He and Yuuri were stumbling up the path like bumbling fools, with those matching ear-to-ear grins on their faces. Yuri blew a few strands of hair out of his eyes in annoyance. It was going to be like this for the rest of their lives, wasn't it? "Yura, I'm not the parent!"

In that moment, it was as if all the air in Moscow had frozen. Yuri couldn't breathe. "What did you just say?"

Viktor finally reached the top of the hill, his arms spread wide, Yuuri just a step behind him. "Yura!"

"Stop saying my name!"

Viktor was still smiling down on him, with that dopey happy face of his. "Yuuri says it all lines up. We're soulmates!"

For once in his life, Yuri fell completely silent. He wanted to deny it, deny everything. He wanted to forget believing in soulmates again. Him and Viktor? The most idiotic idea of all time.

And yet, Yuri couldn't help but feel that something he had long forgotten about had finally been nudged into place. For the first time, he felt he understood why the poets called these lights a miracle, why there were thousands upon thousands of cheesy stories written about these things.

But those feelings didn't make the situation any less horrifying.

"Holy hell." Yuri dragged his hands down his face, mumbling to himself. "This can't be happening."

Viktor had his arms crossed around himself now, unease creasing his brow. "I am sorry for vanishing, Yura. My actions must have hurt you too. I can… see things better now, but still…all those years ago…."

Oh, this was far worse. "Shut up old man, I know all of that already!" Yuri curled his lip into a snarl, but Yuuri just started smiling at him. Eventually, Viktor did too. "Ugh, I don't want our mark to be anywhere visible. Put it on my foot, or something!"

"So cruel." Viktor pouted. Yuuri laughed and put an arm around him and Yuri, pulling them close.

"We're all soulmates with each other!" Yuuri said. His arm was warm across Yuri's shoulders, and this close, Viktor's big head seemed to fill in the entire sky above him. "Isn't that incredible?"

"You're the most annoying soulmate I have, Viktor," Yuri mumbled. As they huddled together in the Moscow chill, something warm bloomed in Yuri's chest — not the burn of a soulmate mark, but something else. Something that mattered — more than marks, more than lights, maybe.

When Yuri pulled back, an idea struck him. "Maybe we don't have to let our light go. Not just yet."

Viktor blinked. "What?"

"We've hardly used it." Yuri bit his lip, but he pushed on. "And you'll always be hanging around Yuuri anyway, so all three of us can speak whenever." 

"Yuri, that sounds wonderful, but…" One of Viktor's hands had gone to his locket, still around his neck. "I don’t want to wear this anymore."

"You don't have to — I'll take care of it," Yuri countered. "Just text me when you need it dark or something—" The idea was sounding stupider the more he said it. "Oh, forget it —"

"Okay."

"What?"

"You're right about everything." Viktor was beaming now. "And Yuuri's been saying that he misses talking to you on airplanes."

All of this was so embarrassing, but Yuri found himself reflecting Viktor's smile right back at him. "If we happen to lose it later, that'll be okay. But just… for now."

"For now," Viktor repeated. He looked almost dazed by happiness. Yuuri was looking at Yuri with so much fondness in his eyes that he almost felt like throwing up.

"Okay, anyway, I'm going to practice now." Yuri ducked around the two of them and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Uh… talk to you later."

Yuuri nodded at him. "We'll catch up to you, Yura."

As Yuri was walking back to the ice palace, he pushed up his left sleeve a bit. There was his locket, that midnight blue thing that too many people now knew about. It was also Viktor's, in a way, since Yuri offered to carry this weight for him. And since he was positive Yuuri would be sharing that light, it was his too. Theirs.

Thinking back the disgusting, corny scene he had just been a part of, Yuri realized something. In all the years he had known him, ever since he first saw him on television, even after Viktor met Yuuri, Yuri had never seen Viktor so happy.

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes." Viktor reached up and pulled the locket over his head. The metal chain was still warm, but the pendant was empty, a cold thing. He never wanted to feel it on his skin again. "I should have done this years ago."

Yuuri nodded. Out there, the Moskva River was a living thing, moving slowly but surely through Moscow. It would go on south to flow into the Oka, then to the mighty Volga, the life-blood of Viktor's country. This water has carried the weight of his people, thousands of times over, tracing back through the centuries. It could carry one more.

Viktor cocked his arm back and he hurled his locket as hard as he could. That blue thing on its chain twisted in the air in a wide arc, wrenching under the sunlight. It struck the water with a splash, flashing gold once more before disappearing beneath the dark current.

A literal burden off of Viktor's chest. The city seemed to breathe it in, shifting its weight a bit before settling back into that great, lumbering beast it always had been.

"So dramatic," said Yuuri softly, taking Viktor's hand. Viktor turned to him and hugged Yuuri tight, nothing but their overcoats and warm sweaters between them. As Yuuri held him back, Viktor remembered that not long ago, he couldn't have imagined this for himself.

Viktor pulled away to give Yuuri a kiss, but a bright light appearing near his eye made him reel back. Yuuri held onto him, laughing as he guided Viktor in a step to the side, where they could both get a look.

W-I-L-L  U  2  H-U-R-R-Y  U-P-!  I-M  B-E-I-N-G  S-W-A-R-M-E-D  B-Y  Y-A-K-O-V  A-N-D  M-I-L-A  A-N-D  E-V-E-N  J-J-!

Yuuri grinned, and Viktor plucked the light out of the air and handed it to him. O-N  O-U-R  W-A-Y, Yuuri signalled. S-I-G-N-E-D-,  K

Viktor smiled and gave Yuuri one last kiss before they turned to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Single dot — signing off
> 
> We're finally done! When I originally planned out this story, this chapter didn't exist, but I'm glad that it does.   
> If you read it all back, I did try to leave it ambiguous as to exactly how many soulmates Yuri does have — but we know that he has at least two.  
> Thank you to everyone who's made it this far and to those who left kudos and comments along the way.


End file.
